


All the King's Horses

by duskendaIe



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Friends, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Constipation, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Is Gay, F/M, Fluff and Angst and Tragedy, Forbidden Love, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Letters, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Minor Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark, Original Character-centric, POV Multiple, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Protective Older Brothers, Red Wedding, Robb Stark is a Gift, Slow Burn, Smallfolk Representation, Uneasy Allies, War of the Five Kings, Westerosi Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duskendaIe/pseuds/duskendaIe
Summary: Hilena is no one. The whelp of Winterfell's master of horse and a bastard, her life will not be one written in books and revered in songs. Yet as a girl leading a provincial life, Hilena thought of a better world for the smallfolk of Westeros. But, a seventeen-year-old Hilena knows her dreams were only the delusionals of an asinine girl. Her life had proven as much, in all its disappointments.So when the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms is announced to be travelling North, Hilena thinks it will be just another blunder. Instead, it brings an encounter with her estranged childhood friend, her family intending to travel south, the departure of her best friend, and a mysterious accident befalling a Stark child.Alone in Winterfell, Hilena learns of potential war and the growing tensions between the lords of Westeros. All the while, a rekindled bond with her scorned friend plagues her thoughts, as do the deep-seated issues that come with it.War is looming and the ghosts of Hilena's past with it. Now with a chance to fulfill her abandoned dreams and to act on forgotten longings, will she play the game of thrones?
Relationships: Jon Snow & Original Female Character(s), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Robb Stark/Original Female Character(s), Theon Greyjoy & Jon Snow & Robb Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	1. 292 AC

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMERS:  
> I. I do not own any of the original characters from the tv show and/or books.  
> II. I do not own any original dialogue or description from the tv show and/or books.  
> III. I do own my original characters Hilena, Senna Sand, and Esric along with some of the characters' plot. I also own some of the plot prior to and during the main series involving canon characters.
> 
> Warnings will be present at the start of chapters containing intense content and/or lots of mature content.

The early morning sun streaked across Winterfell, the air still in silence with no breeze or sound to disturb it. Then came the _thunk_ of an arrow, having found its intended target, a hair away from the one shot before it. Another arrow shot through the air and joined the small clump close to the bulls-eye. A young girl drew back the drawstring of a longbow until it was taut. She squinted at the very center of the target where one arrow had already landed, scrunching her nose in concentration and letting her fingers relax, ready to release.

"Who's there?" Her head whipped around in shock and fear, the arrow slipping through her straightened fingers. With a _crack_ , it split right through the other arrow in the middle without her even noticing. A man in fine clothes strode towards her, a tall boy equally well dressed by his side. The commoner stumbled back to stand straight, out of respect upon realizing the man was Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.

"Boy! What are you—" the lord paused as he approached, "Oh, forgive me." The older man crouched down by the girl, a soft smile on his lips, "Barely recognized you, Hilena."

"It's fine, Lord Stark," she muttered, fumbling with the bow as she dipped into an awkward curtsy. Her umber hair was short, unlike the usual flowing tresses of most girls. The cut was rough and spiky around the edges, like it had been done with a dagger. Hilena glanced down at her ragged clothes; a cotton tunic, leather jerkin, pants, and boots that all appeared much too big for her. They _were_ her brother Harwin's old clothes.

"What are you doing up so early?" Lord Stark inquired, squinting at the sun low in the sky and then across to the archery target. "It looks like you've been at it for a while."

"I'm here for work, the horses need feeding. Been here since dawn, m'lord," she answered, glancing over Ned's shoulder to avoid his kind yet questioning eyes. The boy behind Lord Stark was his son, Robb, the eldest Stark child and thus heir to Winterfell. The boy stood still and glanced at his feet when he caught the commoner's gaze. His auburn mop of hair fell into his face, which he brushed away with a hesitant hand. Ned Stark stood up once again and walked to the target.

He chuckled at the sight of the split arrow, "You're quite talented, I must say. How old are you now?"

"Ten m'lord," Hilena responded. Lord Eddard smiled again, taking the arrows out of the target.

"You're the same age as my son, Robb." Hilena glanced over again at the Stark boy, who grinned crookedly at her. She returned a timid grin, out of courtesy more than anything.

"I should be mad at you for breaking rules." Ned walked back to the two children, dropping the collected arrows into a quiver on the ground. "You shouldn't be using these. You know that well. Especially without permission," Lord Stark paused in front of Hilena, looking down at the bow she held, "Yet, I cannot ignore skill. Keep the bow. You can also shoot at this range whenever it is free. Now go along, your father will worry."

He patted her on the back and smiled tenderly again. Hilena gulped in surprise, then nodded anxiously.

"Thank you, m'lord. I'll use them well." The girl bowed. "Thank you, m'lord."

She twirled around and strode away from the Starks. It was odd that he was being kind to her, so kind to just a girl, nevermind one of her low, peasant status. Despite Lord Stark's befuddling actions, the commoner turned around and stared back.

"Come, Robb, you have expectations to meet," Lord Stark laughed, clasping his son's shoulder.  
  
  
  


**»»----—-—-—-—--- ---—-—-—-—----««**   
  
  
  


When Hilena woke on the dawn of a summer day, she had not expected snow to be falling outside her dirty window. The flakes tumbled down heavily, coating the Winter Town in a pearly blanket. Hilena smiled to herself and thought, _summer snows_. The girl had lived through the summer snows, and even been born during a winter. _Snow is an old friend and a good one._

After descending rickety stairs and eating a small ration of dry ham and rye bread to break her fast, Hilena left her home on horseback. Going to the stables did not feel like labor, though it was. She preferred it over staying home to do chores or embroider. Though, the girl supposed it was meant to make her regret what she did and said too. _If I had to do it again, I would still cut my hair._ _I still don't like dresses too. No harm was done, was it?_

Hilena's first order of business was to feed the horses. The snow crunched beneath her too-big boots and dappled the muzzle of the white mare Hilena stopped to feed. The girl took a carrot stored inside of her inner cloak pocket and fed it to the mare, who ate it eagerly. Hilena wrinkled her nose and let out a snort, amused at how horses ate.

"WHAT IN SEVEN HELLS?" The sudden yell startled Hilena and, after turning to look around the yard, could not locate the voice's source. Well, until Fat Tom came barreling into the middle of the yard.

"WHO THREW THAT AT ME?" The guardsman cried out, wiping a splatter of snow off his face.

"Tom, you all right?" Hilena called out. The guard turned towards her.

"I'm aight Hilena, but someone thinks it's funny to—" A ball of snow promptly smacked him on the nose. His face deeply reddened like an apple before he grumbled, "I think I'll be goin'."

Hilena stifled a laugh with her hand and nodded, the poor guard stomping off across the yard. She, however, became determined to find the source of the snow. The girl marched over to where Tom had stood. Then, she examined the probable origin of the lump of snow, the South Gate.

"Who's there?" There was no one in sight, only the snow falling from the grey sky. After a moment of staring upwards, a lump of snow hurtled down and collided with her face. The commoner paused for a moment and breathed shakily. As the girl wiped the snow out of her eyes, indistinct voices drifted down from above her.

"What was that for, Jon?" _That's a boy's voice_.

"I didn't mean to Robb, for a second I thought it was Tom." _That's a boy too... wait. I know that name._ Hilena finished scrubbing snow off herself, looking upward to where the voices were coming from. _Robb? Lord Stark's son?_

"How did you mistake whoever that was for _Fat Tom_?"

"Well, I don't know... they looked like a boy!"

"Hello!" was all Hilena could think of to interrupt.

Two heads popped out from the side of the parapet. One of them had dark curls and a long face. _Jon. Oh! Jon Snow... the bastard._ Jon's identity did not irk Hilena. _My mother was a Snow too._ The other boy was unmistakably Robb Stark, the sun reflecting off his auburn hair and in his blue eyes. After a moment of perplexed staring, Jon turned to his brother and said something unintelligible.

The two conversed for a moment before Robb spoke, "You're Hilena, right? The master of horse's daughter?"

"Yes, m'lord. Your lord father gave me a bow?" The Stark paused, then nodded in recognition. Hilena was a little surprised he remembered the encounter. _It means nothing to him._

Jon cleared his throat. "I'm sorry about the snow. I, uh, thought you were Fat Tom."

A light chuckle escaped Hilena's lips. "What did Tomard do to deserve snow dumped on him?" The boys both paused for a second.

"Fun?" the Stark offered, and his brother shrugged.

"Well, that's not fair m'lord, he's not your size." In response to the jape, Jon laughed and Robb pursed his lips. Hilena walked over to a pile of snow by the smithy, grabbing a lump. She shaped the snow into a ball and looked back up at the boys. "I'm up for a fair fight!" _How long has it been since I've played in snow? Oh, I miss it so much!_

"You're a girl!" Jon protested, "Girls can't fight! You'll get hurt."

Robb did not respond, then withdrew from over the parapet. Jon glanced behind himself with uncertainty, then left too. Hilena gripped the snowball but smiled. _I've never played with anyone except Harwin, and that was years and years ago. These two are kind enough._ Both boys appeared at the bottom of a nearby tower, not more than a yard away. Jon already had snow in his hands, but the Stark was empty-handed.

"Why would you want to fight?" Robb asked, chewing on his lower lip before adding, "And Jon is right, you'll get hurt."

"It's just some fun!" Hilena answered, "I'll be fine." She threw her snowball at the Stark with all her might and hit him square in the chest.

Chaos ensued.

Jon's snowball hit Hilena on the shoulder, then she hit him on the cheek with a new lump of snow. Soon enough, more and more snowballs sailed across the yard from the two opposing sides. The girl hit Jon in the face, and he fell back laughing and breathless. Robb got Hilena on the side of her head, but the Stark went down too with a hit to the neck. By the end, they were all laughing blissfully and had fallen on the snowy ground. All their faces flushed from the cold, their clothes soaked from melted snow, and none of it bothered them.

"Seven hells, what are you doing?" Hilena's stomach tightened into a stone at her father's voice. Her eyes blinked open to Hullen scowling above her, his brown eyes blazing.

"I was just—"

"Just what?" her father's voice was accusing, "Hurting Lord Stark's boys? Do you want to lose a hand or two?" Before she could respond, Hullen grabbed her arm and yanked his daughter to her feet. "Now get back to getting the horses' hay," his voice dropped to a whisper, "and don't go playing with little lordlings. They'll ruin your life for you, hm? Now get on."

Hilena wanted to protest. _I wasn't hurting anyone! We were having fun! Jon and Robb are nice, didn't you see, Father? We were playing! Like friends!_ Instead of speaking out, the girl swallowed her remarks and turned away from her father. His footsteps sounded behind her but she still looked back to the South Gate. The Snow and Stark were talking to each other. _I'm a fool. A fool to think I could have friends._

Her father's reaction ruined the rest of the day. Hilena tried to make herself feel better by brushing the horses, but even that did not bring her joy. By the time she finished working, the girl was thankful to go home and sleep. The only disadvantage was Hilena had to see her father at the dinner table, since it was the one night he ate with his children. _Of all days._

 _Beef-and-barley stew. Again._ The commoner swirled her crudely carved wooden spoon in her saucer. Lazily, she scooped some soup up and took a light swallow. Even if Hilena had eaten this kind of stew hundreds of times, it was better than no stew at all.

"How was work today, Father?"

The girl brought her eyes up from her food to Harwin, who had spoken. Her brother strongly resembled their father, even his hazel eyes passed for Hullen's brown ones. He was nine-and-ten and had recently joined Lord Stark's guard. So, Harwin had stopped working at the stables and now often inquired about his old work. He too now had quarters in Winterfell. _So far._

"Good, I got new horseshoes for Lucky and Betha." Hullen sipped his stew. _Thank the gods._ "Otherwise, your sweet sister made a commotion." Hilena gripped her spoon tighter.

"Trouble? Again? What did Lena do now?" Harwin questioned and glanced at his sister, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Threw snow at Lord Stark's oldest boys."

"Robb and Jon? Were they fighting back?"

Hullen hesitated before replying, "Yes."

"We were playing together is all," Hilena whispered, narrowing her eyes at her father. _Even if they didn't care, we was just playing. You don't have to care to have friends you play with._

"I heard that young lady," the old man warned through gritted teeth.

Harwin sighed. _Time for a lecture._ "Lena, they're the last people you want to be friends with. And I know you want friends but—"

"What's wrong with them?" Hilena countered, turning her gaze to her brother.

"They're rich lordlings," Hullen snarled.

"But Lord Stark is kind to me. I doubt he'd mind if I made friends of his sons," she retorted, "You both like Lord Eddard! Why don't you like the boys?" The girl's brother and father exchanged a knowing look before Harwin cleared his throat.

"We like Lord Stark 'cause he's of a respectable age, he's learned. His boys are just that, boys. You'd do better to play with the lads in the Winter Town. They won't lure you in with potential... promises of riches. It's happened to many girls before." Hilena scrunched her nose.

"It's for your safety," Hullen stated, his tone softer. The girl opened her mouth to retaliate.

"Lena, want to train?" Harwin asked, and Hilena's lips snapped shut.

Reluctantly, she replied, "Yes. With swords today, please." Her brother's mouth curved into a gentle smile, which she did not return.

Soon enough, the family finished the meager dinner in stiff silence. Hilena sprinted up their ramshackle stairs and went to her room to prepare for sparring. She removed her jerkin but kept on the tunic underneath. _More room to breathe,_ the girl remembered. With additional cloths wrapped around her hair, hands, and arms: Hilena was ready.

After exiting her home and going behind the building, she found Harwin standing solitarily, two old fence posts in his hands. Snow crunched underfoot as the girl approached. _It'll be slippery._

"Think quick!" her brother shouted out as he tossed a slat. Nimbly, Hilena caught the practice weapon with both hands braced in front of herself. Harwin let out a laugh, "You've gotten better at that." She rolled her eyes, remembering all the times the fence post would instead smack her in the nose or crunch against her fingers.

"What's my next lesson?" Hilena asked, moving her grip to grasp the slat in her right hand.

"Stances."

"Haven't we done stances?" the girl grumbled. _Well, it's something to keep my mind busy._

"We need to review." Harwin grasped his fence post with both hands, then lowered it down between his legs so it pointed at the ground. "What's this used for?" Hilena scrutinized the stance for a moment. _What are_ _the advantages of keeping a sword that low?_

"Quick counter strikes," she answered while mimicking her brother's position.

"Good, now what about this?" He drew the slat up high beside his head and pointed it directly at her. _Keeping it that way can only mean one thing._

"Downward strikes."

"Not exactly. You'll want to strike directly at your opponent with this stance," Harwin corrected. _Oh._ He continued, "But show me the best stance for downward blows."

Hilena thought for a moment, then gripped the fence post with both hands. She lifted the practice weapon up beside her head, the tip of it pointed behind her.

"Great," Harwin said with a smile, but his grin faltered. "You seem tired, Lena." The girl lowered her slat and shook her head.

"I'm fine. Let's continue," she lied.

"You're upset about the Starks."

Hilena's mouth opened and closed before she said, "I get why—"

"I'm not scolding you," he interrupted, "I understand why you're annoyed. They're pleasant lads, but they're highborn. So, maybe redirect your attempts at making friends. What about Bessa or Kyra, the other girls your age?"

"They make fun of me," Hilena replied, annoyed, "They say I look like a dirty boy. They neigh at me and call me the Stinky Pony. They smell too!"

Harwin's face fell in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"They're stupid," she grumbled with a frown, "I didn't want you to go to them about it and make a fuss." _It doesn't hurt me, but they're still rude._ Her brother narrowed his gaze, then closed his eyes in thought.

"Well, maybe you should make friends with the Starks."

Quickly, a smile replaced the girl's frown. "Really? Why'd you change your mind?"

Harwin slowly opened his eyes. "Boys don't mind smelly, which you _are_."

He smirked, even as Hilena began charging at him, with her fence post held high. She tackled him to the ground, his fall softened by the snow. Harwin let out feigned cries and brief laughs before the girl gave up and fell down beside him, laughing along.

Yet, it only reminded her of hours ago, playing in the snow and giggling with the Starks. Then, she remembered them ignoring afterward and for the rest of that day. Part of Hilena knew that their kindness would not extend beyond today. _Father's right, little lordlings will never care._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now it begins!! next chapter is from a different pov, and another prologue


	2. 294 AC

The Acorn Water reflected the blazing sunlight of midday into Robb Stark's eyes, the boy of two-and-ten squinting to see. Far in the distance, the Wolfswood was but a green expanse, and the cloudless sky was a blue one. The grey palfrey he rode walked steadily beside the bank of the small river, safe from the dangerous rushes. 

"I can't believe your lord father let you go out riding unguarded." Robb glanced sideways at Hilena, who spurred her chestnut mare to ride alongside him. The girl's mare was her own, a filly she had helped into the world. Though poor and landless, Hilena's family retained ownership of a lineage of horses that hers belonged to.

He shrugged. "I don't like guards." The Stark met his friend's skeptical gaze. "Besides, I'll be fine, and so will you. The miller and his wife live down the river and we can even see Winterfell from here."

They were the same reasons Robb had used to persuade his father into letting him go on the ride, and that they would return before the hour of the bat. The girl sighed, redirecting her focus forward. The sun cast a hazy, golden sheen on her dark brown hair, and brought out the green in her hazel eyes. Her gaze swung back to him after a moment.

Hilena's eyebrows rose as she asked, "Race?"

The boy smirked. "Where to?"

"The mill," Hilena paused, deep in thought. "And the winner gets a sweet."

" _ Two _ sweets," the Stark insisted.

"Fine, two sweets," the commoner acceded, then dripping with sarcasm, "As _ m'lord _ wishes."

He slowed his horse down to a stop, and she followed suit, coming to be by Robb's side. She wore a jerkin, tunic, trousers, and riding boots; like the boy himself. He had gotten used to her preference for dressing in boy's rather than girl's. The Stark had also grown accustomed to her uncommon short, chin-length hair that resembled a squirrel's nest.

"On the count of three, we start," he said, "All right?" The girl nodded. "One." He gripped the reins of his horse. "Two." He squinted and leaned forward in his saddle. "Three!"

Robb took a second to urge his palfrey into a gallop, but it was a second too late. Hilena rode already a yard ahead or more, so he pressed his horse to go even faster. The boy lost track of how long he rode for, but he never once passed his friend.

The blur that was her got further and further away, even as Robb pushed his palfrey to the limits. Only when there was a distant gleeful shout and laughing did the Stark knew he lost. He slowed down his palfrey, glancing across the Acorn Water at the mill behind him. Some yards in front of him was Hilena, victorious.

"You owe me two sweets Stark!" she shouted, continuing to laugh, " _ Two! _ " Hilena circled her horse to face him and trotted towards him, hair wilder than ever.

"All right," Robb replied with a grin, "I owe you." Hilena beamed at the affirmation. He could recognize her smile by now, her  _ true  _ smile. The left corner of her mouth pulled up, her eyes sparkled as they crinkled, and the entire world shone brighter.  _ It's... pretty. _

After they raced, they walked and talked. Hilena and Robb held their horses' reins in their hands and strolled together beside the Acorn Water. They discussed Robb's blooming friendship with Theon Greyjoy, how little Rickon was doing, and the usual Winterfell gossip. A soft breeze moved around them, though it was quite a hot summer day. The sun had sunk lower into the sky, only an hour or so past midday.

"Remember that time you tripped in the Wolfswood?" Hilena interjected after they finished a debate on whether partridge or pigeon tasted similar, "And you scratched your arm so badly, I had to tear my cloak to make a dressing?"

Robb laughed, "How could I forget!" He and Hilena had been running in the woods chasing a rabbit before the Stark tripped on a tree root. The boy had panicked upon seeing the cut on his arm through his torn tunic, but the commoner had handled it with cool grace.

However, her reaction had resulted in her ripping half the bottom of her cloak to make a bandage despite Robb's protesting. Luckily, no one had noticed the makeshift bandage before the boy reached his chambers and changed his clothes. The scratch had healed well despite lacking care, which the Stark had been thankful for since it meant he did not have to visit Maester Luwin about it.

"Maester Luwin never found out, right?" Hilena inquired.

"No."

"Thank the gods," she chuckled, "I don't think we'd be here right now if he had."

Robb grinned and said, "I haven't thanked you properly for that. Are you sure you don't want a new cloak? Or anything at all?"

The girl scrunched her nose as she often did. "I don't want anything and my cloak is fine. Rough along the edges, sure, but it's old."

Robb bit his lower lip, surprised Hilena wanted no compensation. They walked in silence afterward; the Stark listening to the melodies of songbirds and burbling of the Acorn Water.  _ It's so peaceful. _

"Hilena," Robb hesitated upon speaking, "you haven't told me much about your mother." There was nothing particular that compelled him to ask her that, but he still did.  _ It can't hurt.  _ The girl abruptly froze in place, then peered down at her feet.

Hilena cleared her throat, "Well, I've... I've told you she died when I was young. When I was a babe."

Robb nodded, a little nervous. "You have my condolences."

"I didn't tell you how though?" He shook his head at Hilena's question. Her glance met his eyes for a second, but she looked away.  _ Is this question too sensitive? Oh, gods, I've made her uncomfortable, haven't I?  _ Hilena sighed heavily, her eyes downcast. "Robb, she died giving birth to me."

Taken aback, the Stark said, "I'm so sorry. That's terrible."

"Thanks," she replied hoarsely. Perhaps, there were tears in her eyes, but Robb could not tell from where he stood. There was another pause.

"What was her name?"

"Mariya, but my father called her Mari," Hilena responded, her eyebrows stitching together, "Well, her full name was Mariya Snow. She was a bastard."

Robb nodded again. "That's a very pretty name." The Stark sensed the awkwardness of the conversation, with Hilena avoiding his gaze and him nodding along with everything.  _ A bastard for a mother,  _ he thought,  _ I couldn't have guessed. It doesn't matter though. _

"I'm sorry, it's... it's hard for me to talk about her," Hilena confessed, still avoiding Robb's eyes, "I only know so much. My father loved her a lot. It's why he hasn't remarried, I suppose. She loved books, especially history. I named my horse after Jenny of Oldstones," Hilena put a hand on the young mare's neck. "My mother loved the song about Jenny." The girl smiled as she petted her horse. She appeared sorrowful instead of joyous though, and it made Robb upset.

"I don't know that song," he admitted, his voice fragile.

Hilena peered back at the Stark, any resemblance of tears gone. "It's sad, but it's also pretty. I bet Sansa would know it. She loves songs, doesn't she?"

Robb smiled softly. "I must ask her, unless you can sing."

"Oh gods, I cannot sing," the girl laughed, "You don't even want to hear me try." Robb grinned at her remark. There was a moment of silence before Hilena spoke again, "We should head back to Winterfell," then another pause, "And thank you for letting me talk about her. My mother." The Stark glanced at the horizon and the sun.  _ It will be the hour of the bat soon. _

"I agree," he answered, "and, uh, of course. I'll always be here to listen." 

  
  


**»»----—-—-—-—--- ---—-—-—-—----««**

  
  


Robb strode across Winterfell's bustling courtyard; dodging guardsmen, servants, and the like. The boy kept a secure hand atop what he carried, trying to not have it knocked from his grasp by the passersby. The stables eventually came into view and so the Stark quickened his pace. As he approached, who he was searching for also appeared. 

"Hilena!" Upon hearing Robb's exclamation, the girl turned away from brushing her horse, Jenny. Startled, she glanced at him twice. First with surprise, and then with confusion. Predictably, she scrunched her nose too.

"Hello Robb," the commoner said tentatively, "What is it?" She put the brush in her hand down on a nearby bench, then folded her hands together in front of her. The Stark walked to stand beside her and held out what he intended to give.

"I brought you some things. The sweets I owe you, and a gift." He picked the small candies off the top of the bundle, holding them out in the palm of his hand.

"Oh, thanks." Hilena took the sweets, closing her hand into a fist. She paused for a second, utterly bewildered. "What's the other gift for?"

"For helping me, when I tripped in the forest? You ripped your cloak and I still feel bad, especially after you reminded the other day," Robb explained frantically, "I know you want nothing but I felt obligated and—"

"Slow down," Hilena interrupted, furrowing her brow, "I appreciate that you want to repay me, but I meant it when I said I needed nothing." The girl turned away, putting the candies down on the bench and picking up the brush to resume her previous task.

"It's a new cloak," Robb blurted, unfolding the bundle he carried. It was made of black linen, perfect for riding.  _ Like Hilena's old one.  _ However, the one in his hands bore leather straps for security and a dark fox pelt covering the shoulders.  _ It's one of my old cloaks, but it suits her perfectly.  _ Hilena put the brush down and pivoted back after a moment. Then, she reached out and ran her fingers through the pelt's fur.

"This is too fine for someone like me. Far too fine." Her lips pressed into a small frown.

"If you don't want it—"

"No, no," Hilena interjected once again, "You're being kind." The girl gazed up at him, the dubiousness in her eyes telling all. "Thank you, I'll keep it." She reached out and put a hand under the cloak, taking it from the Stark and bringing it close to herself.

Unexpectedly, Robb found himself pulled into a tight hug. Hilena's head rested on his shoulder, one of her arms wrapped behind his neck, and the other held his back.  _ This is new.  _ He blushed and hugged her in return, wrapping his arms around her.  _ I don't think I mind at all.  _ The embrace seemed like it meant more than some cloak.  _ It's for being there. _

All too soon, Hilena loosened her hold and stepped out of the hug, clutching the mantle to her chest with an arm.

"You should try it on," Robb suggested. The commoner smiled, then unfurled the cloak and held it out. "Let me help," he added, stepping towards her, "See the straps buckle in the back. Can I have it for a second?"

Hilena nodded and handed the cloak to him. He unfastened the straps and closed the distance between them. Robb swept the cloak across her shoulders, his hands grasping the front by the top of its straps. Purposefully, he averted his eyes from her face, which was all too close to his own.

"Uh, take the straps," the Stark continued. The girl gripped the harnesses, but he hesitated to take his hands away. Their hands remained together for some time before Hilena subtly coughed.

"Sorry, next you'll cross them and put them under your arms," the Stark stumbled over his words and released his grip, then noticing his sweat-slicked palms.  _ Oh, gods.  _ The girl followed the instruction and made no mistakes.

"Do I clasp it in the back?" she asked, then did exactly that with ease.

Robb smiled. "Do you like it?" Hilena returned his grin but remained silent with an amazed expression.  _ I hope she actually does.  _ Like a bolt of lightning, the Stark remembered something else he wanted to say.

"I have one more gift," he said, biting his bottom lip in concern, "It's... different though."

"What is it now?" the girl asked playfully. The boy reached for her free hand and clasped it, the warmth in his cheeks growing.

"Come with me, you'll like it." Her hazel eyes met his blue, but she averted her gaze quickly.  _ Is she blushing? _

Hilena hesitated before returning his grip and replying, "All right."

Holding hands, Robb navigated through the crowd to lead her to a nearby tower.  _ The Library Tower.  _ They made their way up the steps soon enough and met with a decrepit oak door with an iron handle. The boy let go of her hand, noting the departure of her warmth.

Hilena turned to gaze at the Stark. "Well?"

A smile tugged at Robb's face as he gripped the door handle and swung it open. The library was not large, but it still held more scrolls than any person could read in a lifetime. Wooden shelves were lined to the brim with literature and filled most of the place. In some corners, there were desks and chairs, and there was one large table near a fireplace.

The commoner let out a soft gasp at the sight. The Stark glimpsed at her in his periphery and upon seeing her elated expression, his stomach fluttered.

"You mentioned that your mother loved books, so I thought I'd show you the library," he explained, turning his gaze away.

"I didn't know this is what a library looked like," Hilena whispered, sneaking into the room. She whipped around to face the boy, eyes alight with curiosity. "How much is there to read?"

"Too much, I'd say," Robb replied, and the two began walking. The girl ran her fingers across old book spines bound with hides, pressed together on shelves.

Suddenly, she stopped and left her hand on a book. A rather ponderous looking tome, bound with creased burgundy leather that bore silver detailing. Hilena carefully took the volume off the shelf and stared down at the cover for a moment.

"I can't read," the girl confessed with a frown. Her sadness vanished once she asked, "Could you teach me? To read?"

"Uh, by all means, yes," the boy answered.  _ I didn't think about that, did I.  _ "What book did you pick?" Robb arched his neck to read the cover and the title in fine silver lettering. " _ Fire and Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros  _ by Archmaester Gyldayn _. _ "

Hilena squinted at the book. "How did you get that from all those... scribbles?"

"Well, you see that first letter there?" The Stark stepped closer to her and placed his finger under the said letter. "That's F."

"That's what it looks like?"

"Yes, and this next one... that's I." Robb moved his finger beneath the letter, then began going through the rest of the word. "This next one is R, and finally an E. It spells out 'fire.'"

"So all these markings, put together, represent letters and make words?" she questioned with a wrinkled nose.

"That's one way to put it, but yes. We can sit down and I can help you with learning every other letter." That put a smile back on Hilena's face. It took one turn of a corner to find a table and chairs. The pair plunked down, and the girl placed  _ Fire & Blood  _ onto the table.

"You see this symbol? That means 'and,'" Robb continued, putting his finger under the figure.

"So, what you've shown me, it reads 'fire and?'"

"Exactly," he replied, "Now this next word is blood. It begins with a—" The Stark stopped speaking at the sound of approaching footsteps. Robb whipped his head around to the entrance and stood up.  _ Nothing to worry about. _

"It's probably just maester...," he trailed off as who had entered came into view.

Catelyn Stark glowered at her son, lips pressed into a thin line, and hands clasped in front of her. 

"What's going on, Robb?" His mouth moved without making words.  _ Gods. _

Hilena jumped to her feet beside the boy and inclined her head in respect. "Lady Stark." His mother glared at the commoner, undeservedly in his mind.

"Leave us, girl," Catelyn Stark commanded. Hilena turned away from the Starks and hurried off without a second glance. The boy wanted to chase after her, to call out and urge her to come back.  _ Not in front of Mother.  _ Only after the girl's footsteps receded and the door creaked, did his mother speak again, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing," the boy responded curtly and her stare shifted towards  _ Fire & Blood. _

"Teaching a peasant girl to read?" Lady Stark surmised tensely, "You should not be occupying your time with such things and  _ people. _ "

"She's my friend," Robb asserted.

His mother sighed, her expression relaxing. "You cannot be friends with a girl, particularly one like her."

The boy's brow creased and challenged, "Why not?"

"Messing around with poor girls is  _ not  _ something good lords do," she chided, "You'll marry one day and your wife will be the only woman in your life. You cannot afford to get attached to some... peasant destined to marry a baker or fisherman."

"I—I'm not attached. We're just friends," the Stark repeated.

_ Right?  _ he thought, then remembered earlier that day, even further back. Hilena's pretty smile, how she near glowed when happy, her unwavering confidence. It had all brought warmth to Robb's face, a tremble in his gut, and maybe a little more.

"I'm not going to... mess around," he managed to say through thoughts of how Hilena smelled of clove and soldier pines. His mother's sharp blue eyes raked over him. Her mouth parted as if to speak but instead pressed into a deep frown.

After a pause, Catelyn Stark spoke, "I don't want to see you alone with her again. Am I understood?" Robb rarely got angry with his parents.  _ She can't tell me what to do! _

"Father has no quarrels with Hilena," the Stark rebuked, cheeks reddening.  _ He doesn't care. It's not a problem! _

"Your father is mistaken, let me speak to him."

"But—"

"Robb," his mother warned, her gaze piercing.  _ No point in arguing. _ Her stare lingered, and without another word, she departed the library. Tears pricked Robb's eyes unexpectedly, but he let them flow all the same. The Stark turned to glare at  _ Fire & Blood  _ on the table.

Before he could think, the boy seized the book and hurled it across the library. The book made a heavy _smack_ upon crashing into a shelf, and scrolls tumbled to the ground. Robb made no effort to clean up the mess, instead storming out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> puberty is doing a number on robb am i right. next chapter is the last prologue!


	3. 296 AC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Contains physical violence

"Shit," Hilena swore under her breath, lowering her longbow and relaxing her grip on the string, but keeping the arrow nocked. The tawny young stag she was chasing bounded off further into the Wolfswood. The girl of five-and-ten left her crouched position from behind a bush, eyeing the animal as she moved. Eventually, it stopped, swerving its head around in a panic, but stayed put. Hilena approached closer as the stag nibbled at the grass, the girl finding a spot behind an ironwood tree.

She stepped out from behind the tree, bringing her bow up again.  _ Perfect.  _ Hilena deftly picked an arrow from her hip quiver and drew her arm back, the bowstring going taut as she brought her hand against her face. The commoner scrutinized the stag, aiming for the backside of the front leg.  _ The heart. _

A mere second later, Hilena released the arrow. It whistled in the air and pierced the stag where intended. The animal stumbled, then keeled over, having died rapidly and painlessly.

_ Yes! I haven't got a stag before.  _ The girl put her bow across herself and sprinted over to the carcass.  _ Thank the gods it isn't fully grown, though that would give more meat.  _ Hilena knelt, plucking the arrow from the deer and returning it to her quiver. Delicately, she grabbed the animal to hang it across her shoulders.  _ After I get this to the butcher's, it'll feed more people than anything I've got before has. _

Suddenly, the blast of a horn rang through the forest, followed by distant shouting and the stomping of horses. The girl stood up shakily, balancing the heavy corpse.  _ Why did no one tell me about a hunting party? Best to try and avoid them. _

Hilena started retracing her steps back to her horse Jenny, trying to go as fast as possible without dropping her valuable kill.  _ I left Jenny tied to a tree by the Acorn Water. Get back to the river.  _ The noises of horns, men, and horses continued to resound throughout the forest. Soon enough she caught sight of her chestnut mare, peacefully standing by a soldier pine.

"Who goes there?" Instead of running towards Jenny, Hilena froze in place upon hearing the booming voice and glanced in its direction. Some yards away sat an armored man atop a mud brown courser, a hunting spear in hand. He wore no helmet, his dark grey hair and beard slick with sweat, and his pale blue eyes stared daggers at her.

_ Oh no. _

"My lord, what is it?" Another deep voice called out, but Hilena recognized this one, relief washing over her as the man approached on a snow-white mare.

"Lord Stark." The girl bowed to some extent towards the highborn, as to not drop the stag. Eddard Stark appeared now how Hilena had known him all her life. Solemn, yet kind eyes, and finely dressed, all with an air of steely honor. The lord was also her two best friends' father. When the commoner returned to standing, there were more mounted men gathered around the lord and other man.

"Hilena," Eddard Stark replied, then turned to the man on the courser. "Lord Tallhart, what's wrong? She's just the master of horse's girl."  _ I forgot there were visitors.  _ At Lord Stark's invitation, the Tallharts of Torrhen's Square came to Winterfell recently.  _ I put their horses away. I suppose a hunting party makes sense. _

"Just? Look at that deer. Who gave her permission to hunt in these woods?" The other lord spat out, further narrowing his eyes at her. "And what kind of girl hunts?" The man let out a large huff. "And a member of the smallfolk, nonetheless. Seems to me, she's a  _ poacher. _ "

Dread instantaneously filled Hilena at the word.

"I'm no poacher, m'lord," she countered, trying to stay calm and polite, "I swear it, m'lord."

"These woods are your lord's land, girl. They are not for the likes of you to be in," Lord Tallhart retorted back, "That makes you a  _ poacher.  _ Give that deer to your lord."

"M'lord, please, this stag is for everyone in Winterfell. It will feed families lowborn and high for weeks—" Hilena stopped talking as the other lord dismounted his horse and started approaching her.  _ The Others take me. _

"Lord Helman—"

"Do you know the punishments for poaching? I have one in mind," the Tallhart aggressively interrupted Ned Stark, stopping to tower over the girl, his expression livid. To Hilena's horror, the man drew a dirk from his belt. "Losing a hand."

"MY LORD!" Lord Stark's commanding yell resonated through the forest, but it was too late.

Lord Tallhart lunged for her right arm, bringing Hilena to the ground on top of her bow. The stag dropped and the arrows in her quiver spilled out.

"STOP! GET OFF ME!" she shrieked, trying to apprehend him by kicking and punching him with her free limbs. Other men started shouted, whooped, horses snorted and pounded at the ground. "PLEASE MERCY, M'LORD, PLEASE! LORD STARK!  _ LORD STARK, MERCY! _ " Tears pricked the girl's eyes and she clenched them shut, her mind a tirade of thoughts.  _ No one is doing anything. No one. _

The weight on her disappeared along with a scream of, "WHY YOU _BASTARD_!" Hilena's eyes shot open in surprise, shocked that the lord was no longer above her. The commoner stumbled back as quickly as she could. Her heart seized when she saw _who_ yelled and _who_ attacked Lord Helman. _NO!_

Her older brother had brought the lord down on his back. With the first swing of a fist, a horrible crunch. With the second, teeth flew and blood sprayed. Guards began surrounding Harwin and the other man, trying to pull Hilena's brother off of the lord.  _ What are you doing?  _ Her brother finally got dragged off of Lord Tallhart, though it took several men to even slightly immobilize him.

"Stop," the word came out strangled and desperate, Hilena having forced it from her throat. "Stop, all of you,  _ stop _ !" The girl stumbled to her feet, wrangled her longbow off of herself, and sprinted over to Harwin. "Let him go!" she shouted, grabbing at a guardsman's arm.

The backhand laid across Hilena's cheek sent her sprawling once again. After a moment of shock, hot and biting pain began gnawing at her face. Wet tears formed in her eyes as Harwin got hauled away.  _ I just wanted to get food for everyone. _

"YOU'LL BE HANGED FOR THIS! How  _ dare  _ you attack me!" It was likely Lord Tallhart that said that but Hilena's ears were ringing and it distorted the yelling. "A night in the dungeons should do, hm? Then to the gallows in the morning."  _ No,  _ was all the girl could think.

"You can't," she whispered meekly, then swallowing her fear and propping herself up on her elbows. "You _ can't _ ," the commoner affirmed, the ringing in her ears receding. Harwin was nowhere in sight, and Lord Helman had remounted his courser. The man's face bore fresh bruises, his lip split and an eye swollen. Across his lap lay the young stag.

"We will hold a feast," the visiting lord declared, ignoring the girl's pleas, "And we shall serve this." He roughly patted the stag. "As a victory of  _ our _ hunt, Lord Stark."

"Who do you think you are to make commands here?" Ned snapped back, his voice severe yet unwavering, "You are my guest but you do not serve justice in Winterfell. My guard will not hang. Order your men to release him." Hilena brought her gaze to Eddard Stark, still seated high upon his ivory mare.

"I humbly beg your forgiveness, my lord," the other lord groveled, failing to hide his anger, "But this man, this peasant, _attacked_ me. He will face some punishment! I do not mean to offend Lord Stark, but what lord calls this justice?" The Winterfell guards bristled at the Tallhart's challenging language.

If Lord Stark was enraged, he concealed it. "Then do not release the man. Let him stay a night in the prison, then be flogged instead. To learn a lesson."  _ FLOGGED?  _ Hilena stumbled to her feet, trying to stand up vertically and keep the little dignity she had left.

"Mercy, m'lord," the girl supplicated, "Mercy for my brother."

"Not hanging is mercy," the Stark answered, "Mercy is you not facing any sentence, Hilena." Lord Tallhart whipped his head around to glare at his liege lord.

"What do you mean the girl won't face a sentence?"

"I say she will not," Lord Eddard retaliated, the other lord's face falling in disbelief, "She's a  _ child  _ who's made a singular mistake. As Lord of Winterfell, I say there will be no sentence, for there was no crime. And you must give the stag to one of my guards upon our return. They will take it to the butcher and have it given to  _ all  _ in Winterfell."

_ Am I supposed to thank him for this?  _ Hilena scrunched her nose, conflicted.  _ He saved my brother from the noose, but not from the whip. _

Fury raged on the Tallhart man's face. "We should all be going back to Winterfell then, my lord?"

Ned nodded in reply and so the other lord urged his courser forward, galloping off with the rest of the hunting party in tow. Laid across the back of an unknown man's horse was Harwin; knocked out, feet and hands bound. Enraged, she turned to go fetch her horse and follow the party.  _ I'll fight them again if I have to. They won't get away with this. _

"Next time you want to hunt, you need only ask." Hilena had only taken a few steps, then stopped to regard Eddard Stark. He wore a pensive expression, though he was never a man for fiery emotions. The girl did not know what to say, she did not know if she even wanted to speak. Instead of replying, she bowed to the Stark. With a slight smile, he rode off on his horse, leaving the commoner alone in the woods.

Hilena brought a careful hand to her face, feeling the heated skin where she had been slapped.  _ A guard  _ slapped _ me. And...  _ The girl put her right hand out in front of her.  _ That Lord Helman nearly took my hand. For thinking I was a poacher. I'm  _ not  _ a poacher. He tried to have my brother hanged. Even though Lord Stark did something, tried to save me, tried to save Harwin.  _ Hilena's hand became a fist.  _ He doesn't deserve my thanks. _

The ride back to Winterfell was rapid, her fury increasing with every one of Jenny's gallops.  _ My brother is a prisoner.  _ There were no lords of Harwin in sight when she reached the stables and dismounted.  _ Now he will suffer for protecting me. It's... my fault. It's my fault. _

Her guilt was a knife in her heart, the commoner pausing with Jenny's reins in her hands. _ If I'd just asked Lord Stark, nothing would've happened. Why do I even need to ask him? But I should've known. The Others take me, I should've known.  _ Hilena hastily blinked away tears and rubbed at her eyes, not wanting to cry again. She put Jenny in her stall and left behind her longbow and quiver, then set off to the dungeons.

The Starks of Winterfell rarely ever took prisoners, so the dungeons were small and guarded by one man. The guardsman on duty was plain and Hilena did not recognize, perhaps a Tallhart man or a newer recruit. He leaned lazily against the entrance to the dungeons, only snapping to attention once the girl was standing in front of him.

"I want to see the prisoner," Hilena demanded, trying not to scowl at having to call her brother that.

"I'm 'fraid that can't happen," the man replied hoarsely, "On orders to allow no visitors."  _ What? No visitors? _

"I'm his sister, the prisoner's sister," she clarified, "I want a minute to see him."

"I can't let ye do that, family or not."

Hilena sighed in frustration. "Please? A minute, not even."

"Are ye deaf?" the guard huffed, "I'm on orders to not allow anyone to see 'im."

"I  _ need  _ to talk to my brother!" she snapped, "I don't care about your orders! Orders be damned!" Taken aback, the guard let out a deep sigh.

"A minute, not even," he repeated, unhooking a loop of keys from his belt and unlocking the door. "Don't think 'bout tryin' anything."

Hilena nodded and entered the dungeons as soon as the door opened. Harwin was the sole captive, held in the second cell from the entrance. His hands were manacled, and a foot bore a cuff chained to the wall. He had been stripped down to his breeches and tunic, his boots and armor gone.

"Harwin," Hilena choked out, running to the prison cell. Falling to her knees in front of him, she gripped the rusted bars. "Harwin, it's me, Lena." His light brown hair was matted against his forehead, his entire body slick with sweat.  _ Oh, gods.  _ Her brother stirred after a moment, reddened hazel eyes gazing at her in disbelief.

"Lena?" he mumbled, his eyes glassy.  _ I let the highborns do this. How did I let them all get away with this? _

"I'm—I'm sorry—" Hilena's throat went dry, lost for words.

"Lena, don't apologize," he murmured, "None of this is your fault."

Her brow creased, tears forming in her eyes. "But I let them hurt you. I could've stopped the guards. I should've gotten up again. I could've ripped them away from you."

"Lena, it's fine. Don't... don't blame yourself. You did your best. You couldn't do much, but you did something."

The girl frowned. "It was the least I could do."

"But I couldn't defend you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Harwin hesitated, his eyes now full of desperation, "I'm sorry, so sorry. I'm—"

Instinctively Hilena reached out towards him as her brother moved to her, but his chain restrained him. The constraint prevented Harwin from moving easily, and it repeatedly clanked as he failed to get closer. Eventually, he gave up, slumping against the cell wall in defeat.

"Brother," the girl whispered, tears now freely trickling down her cheeks.

"I couldn't protect you," he rasped, avoiding her eyes, "What worse crime could I commit?"

"Nearly killing a lord?"

Her answer got the smallest chuckle out of Harwin. "I would do it again, though I wish I never had too. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let anyone hurt you. That guard... Tallhart... damned highborns."

"I hate them all, the highborns. Including Lord Stark." Harwin's mouth moved wordlessly. "After that Lord Tallhart took you away, he told me I should've asked him to hunt. Yes, I... I should've known that. But you saw what Lord Eddard did in the Wolfswood. He would've let my hand get cut off. Even if he put the other lord in his place—"

"He saved me from hanging, Lena. He saved you from Tallhart's penance."

"HE DIDN'T!" the girl rebuked, "Lord Stark's like the rest of the highborns, Harwin! Don't you see? He doesn't care about people like us! I  _ hate _ him!" Shock washed over her brother's face, before he closed his eyes and sighed.

"Sister, please, listen," he soothed, "Lord Stark is highborn, but he cares. He's different, I know it. Father knows it. I understand why he did what he did, and so should you. His speaking down to Lord Tallhart was bold enough. The man is a guest. What was Lord Stark to do when the Tallhart went for you? Send in his guards? The rift created would've been even greater than it likely is now. Lord Eddard knows he cannot risk these kinds of things over smaller matters—"

"So what, we  _ don't  _ matter as much as some treaty?" Hilena interrupted, "Some alliance?"

"Yes," Harwin sighed dejectedly, "We don't. We never have. Even kind lords like Lord Stark know the order of things."

"Don't you think that's wrong?" the girl muttered, blinking away angry tears.

"I don't think it's my place to judge, Lena," her brother answered, "Let this pass and don't resent Lord Stark, please. Oh and don't cause more trouble, hm? Do you understand everything I've said?"

She gave a quick nod. "I understand."  _ I'm still furious, I'm still upset. But I understand. _

**»»----—-—-—-—--- ---—-—-—-—----««**

Hilena's chest rose up and down, her breathing arduous. Her nose was clogged, her eyes burned, and her face was stuffy and damp from tears. She rubbed at the remaining teardrops in her eyes with her palm, leaving her face more irritated and reddened.

"Now, once you clean the cut with a wet cloth, you'll apply a salve." Maester Luwin's voice was dull in the back of Hilena's mind. Out of the corner of her eye, the old man held out a cloth.

"Yes," was the only response the girl mustered, "Clean, then apply the salve."

Hilena carefully took the cloth from the elder's hand. Despite feeling dizzy and nauseated, she insisted on helping Maester Luwin. She reached down into an adjacent water bucket, soaking the cloth. Then she began to rub at the bleeding cuts on her brother's back. Harwin, sitting on a stool, flinched at the contact.

"Sorry," Hilena apologized, pulling the cloth away, which started running red.

"No," he rasped, "You need to. Go on." For a second Harwin glanced over his shoulder, then turned to hunch over again. He was slick with sweat, from his mop of brown hair to his roughspun trousers. Hilena swallowed, her throat dry, and returned to cleaning her brother's cuts.  _ These aren't cuts. They are wounds, tears, mutilations. That's the work of a whip. _

Her brother's sentence had not hit her until the next day, watching from the stables. Guards had dragged Harwin into Winterfell's courtyard. Someone had placed a wooden pillar in the center of the yard which her shirtless brother had been strung up to. As soon as a man approached Harwin with a whip, Hilena had started muttering "no," then yelled it.

Everything was blurry when Hilena reflected on it, the clearer memories bringing tears to her eyes. She recalled guardsmen and even her father, holding her back as she screamed at them to stop, the crack of the whip, Harwin collapsing to his knees. A guard delivered the blows while Lord Helman watched on. Lord Stark and his family were absent through it all. Hilena had wept, her thoughts had been a flurry of wrath and despair. Even though her brother had said to let it all pass, she could not stop her emotions from flaring up.

Now, slowly but surely, she bandaged her brother's back. The girl cleaned the cut, applied a healing salve, then placed a dry cloth on top of it. Hilena did the pattern repetitively until Harwin's back was a messy quilt of cloths.

"I'm done," Hilena mumbled, pulling back from the task. She got up from sitting and looked to her brother, who also rose. After the girl cleansed her hands of blood and Harwin dressed, the siblings profusely thanked Maester Luwin.

The walk down the turret steps was silent. The siblings had already come to peace with the situation, or at least Harwin had. Hilena could not rid her mind of negativity, even though she perfectly understood it all.  _ Why are we lesser? Why do we suffer terrible punishment for going against highborns? They're not any different, we're all people, aren't we? _

Even Hullen had come to peace with it, his daughter having confessed everything to him the prior night. Hilena's father was never one for consolations or soothing words. Instead, he spoke of Lord Stark's integrity, the law, and the way things are. _ He and Harwin think the same way. _

Of less help was Hilena's stepmother. Hullen had married a seamstress and washerwoman, Sara, some time ago. She was an old family friend and had met Hullen through his first wife. In all the woman's attempts to be comforting, nothing she did worked. Sara was a pleasant woman, but there was something not genuine about her. When Hilena's stepmother attempted to comfort the girl, she had retreated to her room and cried herself to sleep.

As Hilena walked, she dabbed at her wet eyes with the ball of her hand. When she and Harwin reached the tower's exit, he lingered on the last step.

"We need to find Father," her brother whispered, glancing at his sister.

"Why? He knows everything. We all understand," she stated dryly.

"Just to talk. Sort things out." Harwin looked at his feet.

"I think it better if you spoke alone," Hilena suggested gently.

Her brother took a deep breath. "You're right. And I bet you'll have to speak to some people."

Without thinking, Hilena reached up and brought her brother into a tight embrace. She did not know how long they remained close for, but eventually, the pair came out of their hug. Harwin cupped his sister's cheek, the one bearing bruises from the slap. He smiled briefly, then left without another word, for his actions spoke for themselves.

Hilena entered Winterfell's main courtyard not long after her brother's departure. It was busy as ever on the bright summer day, with servants and others bustling all around. Notably, the wooden post that Harwin had been flogged on was absent.

Alas, there went Bran and little Rickon chasing each other through the archery range, Hodor carrying a saddle, and Ser Rodrick Cassel training Lord Stark's older sons at swordsmanship. Only then did who Harwin had been referencing earlier dawned on her.  _ Oh, I hadn't thought of speaking with Robb and Jon. _

The two eldest sons of Eddard Stark were Hilena's best friends, confidants, and  _ only  _ friends in reality. The trio had grown up together in the last four years, but they were no longer children anymore. They did not race along rivers, play in the snow, and enjoy life and each other's company without qualms. They were nearly grown now and faced actual issues of marriage, class, and more. Robb was to be Lord of Winterfell, and Jon spoke of joining the Night's Watch. Hilena, on the other hand, did not have as free a future.  _ My father has made his designs on it. _

Upon her flowering into a woman, Hullen had resolved it was time for his daughter to find a husband. Her father's primary choice was the tanner's son, Esric, six-and-ten, devilishly handsome for a commoner, and known for his way with girls. _He's attractive and marrying him would make Father happy. But I'll be damned to the deepest of the seven hells before I let him into my bed._ _He's much too smug and flirtatious._

Though, Hilena was not sure if her apathy was completely Esric's fault. Things other than growing up had changed in her life. She did not wear her brother's old clothes anymore, and she had grown out her wavy umber hair. Robb and Jon no longer looked like familiar clean-shaven, chubby-faced boys, even if they were only fourteen. However, there was something about Robb that Jon did not possess.

Hilena was not sure  _ how  _ to label whatever she felt. The girl knew that the time she spent alone with the Stark was different from her time with Jon. Robb was an eager listener, courteous, and sometimes a bit prideful. He had a great capacity for empathy too.

She noticed more about Robb too; his sharper jawline, the beginnings of stubble, a deeper yet sweeter voice, a radiant smile, the kindest and deepest blue eyes. Being with him never failed to put a smile and a blush on her face. Hilena could go on about him forever, look at him forever, be near him forever.  _ What is wrong with me? _

To her understanding, love was a rare thing that always turned out tragically. Her father Hullen had deeply loved his wife Mariya, and then she died giving birth. Harwin had joked once about being in love with Lyanna Stark as a boy. Later, Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped and raped Lyanna, then she died. Long ago, Duncan Targaryen gave up everything for a peasant woman named Jenny of Oldstones, and Westeros paid for his choice in blood. The Prince of Dragonflies later died in the Tragedy of Summerhall, and now Jenny lived only in songs.

Hilena had always thought it strange that the story of Jenny had been her mother's favorite.  _ What's so amazing about a doomed love? Perhaps there is a poetic nature to it all, but who would sacrifice everything for someone?  _ The girl flushed upon thinking of a rebuttal to that, a voice inside of her whispering,  _ What wouldn't you sacrifice for Robb?  _ She hushed those musings.

_ I'm not in  _ love  _ with him, I know that. I like him a lot, as a friend. We're good friends, friends sacrifice for each other. And I don't want love anyway, I don't want to get married. Besides, I'm just the master of horse's daughter and he's a highborn, the future Lord of Winterfell. It could never happen. It's not like I care, anyway. _

"Lena!" At the exclamation, Hilena snapped out of her trance and stepped away from the wall she had been leaning against. When the girl gazed ahead of her, both Robb and Jon were approaching her.  _ The Others take me,  _ she cursed. The Stark wore a broad smile and the Snow's mouth was pressed into a firm line, their usual expressions.

"Hello," she replied, walking to meet them in the middle of the yard. "How are things?"

"I think we should ask you that," Jon said, "We heard about what happened with the Tallharts and your brother." Hilena's stomach knotted and dropped like a stone.  _ Of course they know. It isn't some big secret, now is it? Just let it all pass. _

"How much did you hear?" the commoner asked, trying to mask her uneasiness.

"Some from our father, bits and pieces from Jory and other men," Robb answered, "Lord Tallhart made quite the fuss when they returned from the hunt."  _ Did he now? _

"Did the lord really try to cut your hand off?" Jon questioned, his dark brows creasing.

"Yes," Hilena confirmed, "Seven hells, he drew his dagger and knocked me to the ground. If my brother hadn't interceded, I wouldn't have a right hand." Both boys' expressions became more concerned.

"When Lord Helman returned he was screaming about poachers, hangings, and lowborn scum," Robb moped, his smile gone, "Father said the lord thought you were a poacher, Lena."

"Falsely thought so," the girl asserted, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"What about Harwin?" the Snow added, "We barely heard anything about him, other than that he attacked Lord Tallhart."

Hilena inhaled, her throat still raw from screams and eyes red from crying. "Tallhart's guards went after my brother and had to knock him out. Their lord wanted Harwin hanged, but Lord Stark wouldn't hear of it, thank the gods. He still sentenced my brother to flogging instead. That was this morning after Harwin spent a night in your dungeon." There was a moment of silence while the story set in.  _ It sounds so simple when I say it. I left out getting backhanded, the stag, and more. Not like they need to know. _

"I'm so sorry," Robb said, breaking the silence, "That's awful." Jon nodded in solidarity.

"Thanks," the girl whispered.  _ I don't need any condolences. It's all over now. _

"Well, um," the Stark paused and let out a cough. "Would you like to go on a walk through the Godswood, Hilena? It's, well, peaceful and all, a nice place to take a break." Jon poorly muffled a burst of laughter, which the commoner wrinkled her nose at.  _ What's gotten into him? _

"It'd be rude to refuse you,  _ m'lord, _ " she joked, hiding her confusion, "Later, Jon."

"Aye, I'll see you both later." The Snow smiled, mischief in his coal eyes, then departed.

"What's wrong with him?" Hilena asked Robb once his half-brother was out of earshot.

"It's nothing," the Stark replied.  _ Sure.  _ "Let's go, hm?" The boy raised one of his elbows, an offer for them to go arm in arm.

"I am  _ not  _ taking your arm," she laughed, pushing his elbow down and then walking away.

"It's rude to refuse a lord!" Robb called out, running to catch up to her. "If you were a lady, you'd be considered very lucky to walk arm in arm with a Stark."

The girl scoffed, "Well, I'm not a lady, and I think I'd be laughed at for walking beside an absolute fool." Robb chuckled heartily at that, which brought a small smile to her face. 

The walk together was brief, every step increasing the flush that had begun creeping up Hilena's neck and face. She could not help but feel there was more than a peaceful walk ahead of her. Theories swirled in her head,  _ Am I overthinking this because of my earlier thoughts or...? Well, why was Jon acting like something is up? What could Robb possibly have to say, or do? Seven hells, I'm being a naive idiot. We're just taking a walk, we always take walks. _

"Do you want to sit down?" Robb's voice brought Hilena out of her speculation. He gestured towards a close by rock beside the heart tree. She nodded, sitting down and taking a moment to observe the Godswood. 

The sunshine of summer poured through the leaves and branches of elms, ironwoods, and oaks. It then refracted in the hot pools, like the deep black one in front of her. The weirwood beside the rock was enormous. Its white bark and crying face deteriorated from time, and its scarlet leaves and sap were ever dripping. _Beautiful._ _I should come here more often._

"So? Why are we here?" the commoner asked, looking to Robb, who sat down beside her. He was not that close to her, rather at what she considered a reasonable and friendly distance.

"To take a moment," he muttered, staring off into the woods. At that moment, the sun seemed to shine purposefully on him. His curls shone bronze, his eyes sparkled blue, he was radiant. Hilena was speechless. She never wanted to leave this moment for the rest of her life. The girl turned her head away before the blush on her face deepened any more.

"Are you all right?" Robb said after a minute.

"Yes, I think I established that." Hilena kept her gaze away and instead stared at a distant tree.

"Lena, I mean it. You can talk to me," the Stark stated softly.

"What is there to talk about? There was a fight, my brother suffered for it, it's over now."

"Did someone hit you?" Hilena's stomach became a gaping pit at the question.  _ You didn't think he would notice the bruise? He's not stupid. _

"It was a guard," she professed, still gazing into the distance, "I tried to make him let go of my brother. After Harwin attacked Lord Tallhart. I... I grabbed the guard's arm and he backhanded me."

"Gods, I'm sorry," the boy seethed, "How is that allowed? Did my father do anything?"

"No," Hilena said bitterly, perhaps too bitterly.  _ I can't let him know how I feel about his father right now. _

"I'll ask him to find this guard, and the man will be punished," the boy declared.

"Robb, don't bother. It's not worth it."

"It's worth it to me." Hilena was certainly blushing now, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Look, I appreciate it, but don't bother Lord Stark with small problems," she replied tremulously, reflecting what Harwin had told her.  _ Our issues are insignificant matters. _

"It's not a small problem, this man hurt you."  _ He's right, though. _

"No, really. Leave it," the girl said instead, "Your concern is enough for me. I don't need justice."  _ The Others take me, why did I say that?  _

Suddenly Hilena's face was grasped and turned around. Robb sat only mere inches away, his eyes closed, leaning into her, leaving barely any room between their noses and lips.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The commoner jumped up and backed away, stumbling slightly from how fast she had risen.  _ He did not just try to... to...  _ kiss  _ me? _

"I—I thought—" the Stark stuttered, still sitting on the rock with his hand held out.

"THOUGHT  _ WHAT?  _ I don't—you—no!" Hilena brought her hands to her flushed face, then raked them through her tangled hair. She turned away from him and tightly crossed her arms. "Robb, you tried to kiss me."

"I thought that'd you, well, want that," he said timidly.

"Then you truly _ are  _ a fool!" she breathed out and scrunched her nose. "You could've maybe _ not _ rushed into it and  _ not  _ assumed. Seven hells! Seven  _ hells! _ "

"Lena, I'm sorry. You're right. But, are you saying that you don't... feel that way?"

Hilena was sure she was bright red.  _ I don't know, I really don't. If I did, I would've kissed you, right?  _ Then, thoughts of Jenny of Oldstones returned, thoughts of the Prince of Dragonflies, thoughts of the doom that befell a peasant and highborn in love.

"It's complicated."

"Complicated?" Robb replied, his tone irritated. _ Seven hells _ .

"You want to know then? Fine!" Hilena shouted, whipping around and striding to stand directly in front of him. "You can't do those kinds of things! And, you want to know what's complicated? It's that you don't get how things are for people like me. It's because you're a lord. You're rich, powerful, a man, and you'll get everything you'll ever want, handed to you on a silver platter. I'm a peasant, a woman, and will never get what I want. I've been crushed under the heel of people like you for my entire life. I won't have it.

"You want to know the truth? I am  _ miserable  _ and  _ furious  _ at what Lord Tallhart did. He tried to maim me for a crime he presumed I committed, solely because of my status. He had my brother attacked, knocked out, chained, and imprisoned for defending me. He would've had Harwin  _ hanged, _ Robb!  _ HANGED! _ Because of what? His stupid little title of lord somehow protects him and makes him special? Don't you see how  _ wrong  _ that is?" The girl's eyes grew wet as she stared down at a completely shocked Robb. He bit his lip and looked away from her. "Well?" The girl flung her hands up, then dropped them to her sides.

"It's the law," he stated monotonously, "And smallfolk are treated well for the most part."

"Then I say the law is wrong," she retaliated, "And I have one good thing to say about highborns. At least your father cares, just a bit, about us smallfolk. He's the only lord that treats us 'well for the most part.' It's nothing close to real justice, but, oh, that's the law, isn't it? The way of things."

"It is, everyone knows that," Robb rebuked, standing up to stare down at her, "You obviously understand that. Besides, you're different. You're not... not like any of the other peasants.  _ We're  _ different."

"There isn't a  _ we _ ," Hilena seethed, "There's a me and a you. That's how it's always been and always will be—"

"What about the past four years?" he interrupted, fuming.

"I'm beginning to think it was all a mistake." The Stark's entire body and face froze, and Hilena felt a twinge of guilt.  _ I shouldn't have said that. But... I meant it. _

"Maybe it was," the boy muttered, his blue eyes glassy and voice wavering. "Your family's sentiments about most highborns got to you."

"Oh, it's my family's fault? No, it's  _ yours.  _ What happened with Lord Tallhart, involving your father, in particular, proved that highborns can't get along with the low. Even if they care just a little. You all have sticks too far up your asses to give an actual shit."

"And I thought you might've kissed me back today. Guess I am the absolute fool you said I was."

"We should've been nothing, and can't be anything more. Also, I'd like to say you're quite good at avoiding what I'm talking about. What do  _ you  _ think of the smallfolk?" Robb grimaced at her question.  _ He knows I'm setting him up. _

"The smallfolk are for a lord to protect, every single one of them. They are a lord's subjects which he must provide for, defend, and rule over."

" _ Subjects.  _ I don't like that word. I don't want to be  _ ruled  _ by anyone, especially not some glorified, pompous asshole who's only special because he has a fancy last name."

"Did you miss the part about lords  _ defending _ ? We keep you  _ safe.  _ That's why we're in power and rule."

"You call nearly getting a hand cut off being defended? Or is that a new phrase I never learned, because I'm just some lowborn scum who's uneducated."

"You're being irrational." Hilena resisted the urge to scream at him again.

"I beg your pardon,  _ m'lord _ , but I'm not. Highborns aren't persecuted, aren't destitute, aren't left to die in winter, aren't killed by the thousands in wars they  _ don't  _ want to fight. You sit comfortably in your castles, waited upon, and given everything. And in wars, if you die at all, you're proclaimed heroes and have songs written about your deeds. There are no songs for the men who truly fight wars, is there? I lost my grandfather and uncle to Robert's Rebellion, and they lay dead in the ground with no bard's songs for them."

"It's an honor and a man's duty to fight in a war," Robb bit back, "It's an  _ honor  _ to die in battle."

"What are honor and duty compared to a long, fulfilling life? To seeing the ones you love again?"

"It—Of course those are important. But honor and duty come before everything else."

"Your mother wouldn't like to hear that," Hilena quipped, "The Tully words are  _ Family, Duty, Honor _ , I believe. Not the other way around."

"You make jokes about my family and I after tearing us to shreds?"

"Salt in the wound." The Stark's jaw clenched and blinked as tears filled his eyes.

"This has gone on long enough. I understand everything now," he said and breezed past her to exit the Godswood. Hilena whipped around and strode after him.

"You're mad because I didn't kiss you!" That made him stop dead in his tracks, then he turned to face her.

"I'm mad that you've  _ slandered  _ me, my house, my family, and what we stand for. And, I won't say a word of it to anyone, even Jon. Because I still  _ care  _ about you enough to not have you locked in the dungeons. I'd never hurt you." The rawness of the fact was a punch to the gut.

"You don't know that," the girl countered, not believing her argument anymore, "And I would say the same thing but—"  _ Gods, what has this become? _

"You're hurting me right now," Robb interrupted, face reddened and glistening as he started crying.

"I am. So be it." Hilena blinked back her tears.  _ I didn't want this, but he's shown his true nature. He's another lord, he isn't different. I was the real fool for believing he was better than his father, better than them all. _

"How can you say that?" he asked accusatorially, "How have you said any of this? You're so desperate to be seen as an equal in highborn eyes, yet you argue against us and mock us. Empathy and respect goes both ways, Lena."

_ Seven hells. SEVEN HELLS.  _ "Highborns don't have to earn respect or empathy, though. You are born loved and revered by thousands, more. Smallfolk are born as if we were the scum on the underside of a lord's boot. It will go both ways once we are all born on equal footing. And you know, for fuck's sake, you're right! I shouldn't mock you, should I? No, only by being complacent and kind will I see change. Sorry, my mistake."

There was a long pause as the two stared at each other, sizing one another up. Eventually, Robb whispered, "What do you  _ really  _ want?"

Hilena's breath caught at the question.  _ Other than justice, equality, freedom? I thought it was you. I wasn't sure but you certainly were a possibility. Now you've dashed that fantasy into a thousand pieces. And it isn't worth all this pain. _

"I want nothing to do with you." Hilena sidestepped her old friend, then ran away. She did not hear him shouting her name, she did not feel the tears streaming down her cheeks or the pain that sang throughout her body. There was only the summer sun in her eyes, the leaves of the Godswood trees crunching beneath her feet, and the delight in knowing it was all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a big boy!!! next chapter starts the main story :D


	4. ROBB I

Bran Stark was not good at archery. Robb wanted to think the best of his little brother, but what he witnessed, in reality, was pitiful. The Winterfell air was crisp, the sun shining, overall a good day, and a perfect time for archery. A perfect time for Bran to improve. With a loud _thunk_ , the younger boy shot an arrow into a barrel a yard away from the target. Robb sighed, his arms crossed. 

Jon Snow walked to his little brother's side and clasped the boy's shoulders. "Go on, father's watching," he paused for a moment, "And your mother." The brothers looked up to Lord and Lady Stark, then Bran drew to shoot again. Then he missed, again. Then again. Then again. Robb could not help but laugh, nor could Jon or little Rickon nearby.

"And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" The Stark father's voice boomed from above, and everyone below glanced up. With an encouraging smile, he said, "Keep practicing Bran. Go on."

Jon leaned down next to his brother. "Don't think too much, Bran."

"Relax your bow arm," Robb added. _A good piece of advice Rodrick won't teach._

Suddenly an arrow pierced the bulls-eye, but it was not Bran who shot it. All the Stark boys whipped around. There stood Arya, bow in hand, who curtseyed with a sly smile. Bran dropped his bow and arrow, running towards his sister whom he began chasing.

"Quick Bran, faster!" Jon shouted with a laugh, Robb laughing along.

As the young Starks ran they nearly knocked someone over, who proclaimed, "Seven hells! Won't you two behave?" The person continued talking, but the Stark had stopped paying attention.

 _Seven hells is right._ Hilena seemed unavoidable. That was the trouble of living in the same place. Every time he passed through the Winter Town, she was there. Every time he went to the stables, she was there. He could not get rid himself of her; in life, thoughts, and dreams. _And here she is again._ The Stark glanced over at Hilena again. For a split second their eyes met, but the commoner swiftly diverted her gaze.

"Hey Jon," she called out, then turning to Robb, "M'lord." Hilena nodded slightly and smirked, then walked away. The Snow let out a loud snort of laughter.

"Shut it," the Stark snapped. He breathed deeply, then said to Rickon nearby, "Come on lad, let's put the arrows back."The three boys finished cleaning soon enough, Robb sending Rickon off to find their mother. 

Jon sighed, walking over to his brother, "Stark, you should've seen the look on your face when—"

"When what, Snow?" he interrupted, staring dead into his brother's dark eyes.

"When Hilena came by," Jon stifled a laugh, "You looked like you'd been hit over the head."

"I meant it when I said shut it." Robb gave his brother a playful shove, which only made the Snow smile more. 

"If you two are done, we have to saddle our horses." The brothers glanced across the yard to see Theon Greyjoy approaching. Robb liked Theon, looked up to him even. The Greyjoy was full of himself, but he made good company. The older boy continued, "a Night's Watch deserter was caught in the moors." 

"So we're going to an execution then," Jon said, then putting on a sardonic tone, "my favorite."

Robb and the others saddled their horses, heading out to where his father carried out his justice. The Stark had attended many executions, but he was not numb to them. Watching a man die was always an unnerving thing. So, when Bran joined them, it surprised the older boy. _I might have been ten when I first witnessed death. Six years ago._

After the group arrived and organized themselves, guards brought the deserter before Robb's lord father. The man was filthy and frostbitten, lips chapped, and wearing heavy, ragged, black garments. _If he wasn't in black, I'd think him a wildling._ The Night's Watch man was rapidly mumbling while being dragged to the chopping block and stopped once he reached it.

"I know I broke my oath," the man started, "And I know I'm a deserter. I should have gone back to the Wall and warned them, but—I saw what I saw. I saw the White Walkers. People need to know. If you can get word to my family... tell them I'm no coward. Tell them I'm sorry." With a stiff nod from Lord Stark, guards shoved the man down onto the block. 

From behind Robb, Jon whispered to Bran, "Don't look away. Father will know if you do." 

When his father had finished speaking the necessary words, he rose the Valyrian steel greatsword Ice high and then brought it down. Robb clenched his jaw at the sight of the man's head rolling along the ground. He turned to Bran behind him, squeezing his brother's shoulder to lead him back to the horses. _White Walkers? That's impossible,_ he thought as he remounted his black horse, _Impossible._ Robb rode to the front of the party, joined by Jon and Bran. 

"The deserter died bravely," the older Stark asserted, "He had courage, at the least." _Admitting wrongdoings, that's courage._

"No," the Snow responded, "It was not courage. This one was dead of fear. You could see it in his eyes, Stark." 

"The Others take his eyes," Robb swore, "He died well. Race you to the bridge?"

"Done," Jon said with a smile and bolted ahead of his brothers. The Stark kicked his horse forward, galloping after the Snow and leaving Bran behind. _Seven hells._

The pair were far away from the procession, then found something unexpected at the bridge. A stag's corpse lay in the middle of the path, riddled with maggots, and its guts spilled out. As soon as the rest of the group arrived, they dismounted and inspected the beast. Lord Stark went the closest to it, then turned to go off the trail. Robb and the others followed him down to the river. There was an even more astonishing sight. 

_Is that a wolf? It must be._ However, it was larger than any wolf Robb had ever seen. It was dead like the stag, stinking of corruption and covered in writhing maggots. Yet, there was life. Five pups nestled against their mother's stomach, trying to get milk. _A miracle._

"It's a freak!" Theon shouted, breaking the silence as everyone observed the carcass.

"It's a direwolf," the Stark's father answered matter-of-factly, then reaching down towards the wolf's throat. "Tough old beast." With a pull, he took out an antler buried in its neck.

"There are no direwolves south of the Wall," Robb said. _That's the truth of it, isn't it?_

"Now there are five," Jon remarked. He picked up one of the small pups, and asked Bran next to him, "You want to hold it?" The little Stark took the pup in his arms without question and the other men shifted nervously. 

"Where will they go?" he asked innocently, "Their mother's dead."

"They don't belong down here," Rodrick Cassel stated.

"Direwolves loose in the realm, after so many years," Hullen, the master of horse muttered, "I like it not." He was not simply Winterfell's master of horse, but Hilena's father. Hullen was an older man with a rotund figure, though overall stern and committed to his work. Also, extremely protective, as Robb had learned over the years. _He treated me as if I was planning on eloping with her or had taken her maidenhood. Seven hells, never._

"Better a quick death," Lord Stark announced, "They won't last without their mother."

Theon took no time in drawing his dagger and rushing down to Bran. "Right. Give it here," he said, reaching out to the pup in the boy's arms.

"No!" Bran cried out, clutching the pup close to himself, but the Greyjoy still got a hold of it.

"Put away your blade," Robb ordered. _I will not stand to see my brother's happiness ruined._

Theon looked up to him, pup in hand. "I take orders from your father, not you." Robb ignored the Greyjoy's scathing comment. 

"We will keep these pups," the Stark stated firmly.

"You cannot do that, boy," Harwin replied bluntly, who was Hullen's son and Hilena's older brother. Harwin was a kind man of five-and-twenty, a Winterfell guard and aspiring knight. _Well, that's what Hilena told me years ago._ However, Harwin did not take kindly to the Stark for the same reasons as his father. 

"It be a mercy to kill them," Hullen said.

"Please, father!" Bran begged.

His father stalked away from the direwolf, then turned to his young son. "I'm sorry, Bran. Hullen speaks truly."

"Lord Stark?" Jon said, looking up to his father, "There are five pups... one for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is the sigil of your house. They were meant to have them."

It did not take long for the Stark's father to give his answer. "You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. And if they die, you will bury them yourselves." 

Eagerly, Robb went down to the wolves and took two from Jon, which he gave to Theon. Then, he grabbed another two pups, which squirmed in resistance as he took them. _They're such little things._

As Robb left he overheard Bran asking Jon, "What about you?"

"I'm not a Stark," the Snow answered, "Get on." 

Robb's brow creased at Jon's words. _I hate it when he treats himself this way. He's a Stark. He's my family, my brother. Being called "Snow" won't change that. He deserves a direwolf._ Robb, Bran, and Theon began trekking up the hill, then turned to see Jon lean down into the grass. 

"What is it?" the older Stark asked, trying to keep his pups stable. When Jon stood back up, a wolf pup as white as snow with scarlet eyes was in his hand. _An albino._

"The runt of the litter," Theon remarked, "that one's yours, Snow." Jon stared at the Greyjoy, mouth agape, then looked to Robb. The Stark smiled at his brother. _He deserves the pup._

The journey back to Winterfell was chaotic, to say the least. Handling direwolves while riding was difficult, since Robb had to balance the pups while they pawed at him and wiggled. From the two the Stark was holding, he wished to keep the one with ashy fur and yellow eyes. The other pup had a similar appearance, sporting deep golden eyes, and a dark, silvery coat. However, Robb sensed that the yellow-eyed direwolf was the one for him.

As soon as the party dismounted their horses, the rest of the Stark family swarmed them. Arya arrived first, jumping around Jon to pet his small, white wolf. Theon handed Sansa a light grey pup and the girl squealed in excitement. Then, Rickon grappled for the only coal- direwolf still in the Greyjoy's arms. Robb smiled at the sight and held his two grey pups closer.

"Brother," Jon called out with a smile, "Arya still needs a pup." With a nod, the Stark boy strolled over to his brother and sister. Jon and Arya were an inseparable pair, both sporting their father's look unlike some of their other siblings. The trouble they got into entertained Robb, but he too admired them and their bond.

"Which one you'd like, Arya?" Robb asked. _If she chooses the direwolf I want, I'll still give it to her,_ he told himself. His little sister scrutinized the direwolves, grey eyes moving between them.

"That one," the girl answered and pointed to the dark pup with gold eyes. Delicately, he handed his sister the wolf which she held like a baby once in her arms. Arya started giggling when the pup began licking at her face, Jon laughing along with her.

"You should give the wolf a name," the Snow suggested.

The Stark girl's face screwed up in thought, before stating, "Nymeria! After the Rhoynish princess."

Jon ruffled Arya's mousy hair and she swatted at this hand. Robb grinned, but his smile faltered at remembering Hilena's horse Jenny, who too was named for a historical figure. _The Others take me._ Arya sprinted away with her new pup, and the Snow followed her.

"What is _that?_ " The Stark's eyes flicked to the source of the voice. Not far away, Hilena peered over Jon's shoulder down at this albino wolf. _Just walk away._

"A direwolf," the Snow answered.

"A _dire_ wolf _?_ What a world we live in." The commoner threw her arm across Jon's shoulders, then reached down to the pup with a broad smile. The white wolf nipped at her fingers and the friends laughed.

Over the past two years, Hilena and Jon had noticeably become closer. _There's nothing wrong with that, but I still feel... twinges of jealousy. It's not like they'll..._ Robb let his thoughts trail off as he watched his brother and the girl walk away. With a sigh, the Stark peered down at the wolf in his arms and journeyed off to find milk for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah!! first real chapter!! this one is super short tbh, but the rest aren't. tysm to everyone who has read, left kudos, or bookmarked!!!


	5. HILENA I

Hilena was not ecstatic about the visitation of Robert Baratheon and his royal retinue. For weeks her father had attempted educating her in preparation on topics of etiquette and presentation. _Wear dresses, do your hair, act modestly, genuinely smile for once, keep quiet,_ the girl remembered, _the list goes on and on._ Unfortunately, the commoner had to use what she learned soon because the king was to arrive today.

Before the girl of seven-and-ten transformed into a person she was not, she had to hunt for the feast. Hilena often hunted alone in the nearby Wolfswood with her bow and arrow, no matter how inadvisable it was because of her experiences. The feast Lord Stark had ordered for the king was larger than any held at Winterfell before, so she had shot two pheasants and a rabbit to contribute.

After dismounting and putting away her horse, Jenny; the commoner set off to the butcher with her bow around her shoulders, quiver at her hip, and kills in hand. When she entered the butchers, however, what she saw left her wishing she was blind. For reasons beyond Hilena; Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy, and Jon Snow were present.

And shirtless.

 _The Others take me_ , she thought, looking to the ceiling. Hilena dashed past them, still glancing upwards, as they broke out into quiet laughter. She laid the pheasants and rabbit down on a table, then whipped around to face them, arms crossed.

"What's so funny, m'lords?" she inquired. Theon and Robb did not meet her eyes, but Jon, who was getting his hair cut, glanced at her with a subtle smile.

"Nothing," he said, still smiling, "What's wrong?" The Greyjoy barely contained his giggling.

"Nothing," the girl replied sarcastically, flicking her braided hair behind her shoulder. _He's a liar._

"Hunt went well then?" Jon asked, eyeing the dead animals.

"Yes, now I'll be going," Hilena answered, rushing past them again.

"I'll see you later!" Jon called out, followed by more raucous laughter. _Seven hells. Seven hells! I hate boys._ Then, she went to the stables to return home and prepare herself for the feast. Within a minute, she was riding out of the castle, since Jenny's tack was still on.

On the way, the commoner contemplated the encounter. _They're so stupid. Even Jon._ The Snow was her only true friend out of the three. They had bonded more over the past years, confiding in each other without concern. On the odd days the two were free of lessons, duties, or anything else, they met up at the Smoking Log and drank their fill. _He's my only friend... at all_. Theon Greyjoy meant nothing to her, but he was quite a nuisance. Watching the other girls of the Winter Town fall for him was depressing.

Then there was Robb Stark. _Where to begin._ Not much had changed in the past years, outside of what came with growing up. _Well, everything changed, didn't it?_ Hilena could not recollect the last time they had an actual conversation. There were the occasional exchanges of "m'lord" and a polite nod, and an uncomfortable amount of longing glances from him. _He needs to let go. I lost any feelings I had long ago. I don't miss him._

Pushing her thoughts away, Hilena dismounted her mare. The girl's house was unremarkable in every sense, but it was home. The commoner tied Jenny to a wooden post, then entered through the creaky front door. She regarded the small interior upon stepping inside, making sure none of her family was present. _Alone, good._

Hilena made her way up the narrow, rickety staircase that led to her bedchamber. Her room was a tiny thing, but she had no quarrels about it. The only contents of the room were her bed, a chest of clothes and other objects, a desk, and a chair, and a small bookcase filled with borrowed materials from the Winterfell library. The girl took her bow off and laid it against the wall, then unbuckling her quiver belt to do the same.

Hilena glanced into the grimy mirror on her desk, scrunching her nose at her reflection. _Do I have to "pretty" up for the king?_ Sure, her face was dirty, her umber hair a mess, she smelled of hay and blood, and she was wearing men's clothes. _I suppose I must._

Immediately, the commoner walked over to her clothes trunk to find something suitable. Halfway through digging among Harwin's hand-me-downs, she found not a dress, but a kirtle. It was dark grey lambswool and long-sleeved. _When did I get this piece of trash?_

Hilena threw it to the side and looked back into the chest, then spotted another clothing item. It was a chemise, meant to go under the kirtle. The girl picked it up and inspected the piece. _I guess_ _I have more varied clothes than I thought. It must've been my mother's._

A frown formed on Hilena's face upon thinking of her mother. She often wondered if her mother would like her as a daughter, would like a girl who hunted, fought, and wore men's clothing. Hullen talked about his first wife as if she were the perfect woman. Beautiful, well-mannered, and versed in the womanly arts. Naturally, she had been an amazing rider as the master of horse's wife.

Being good on horseback and being interested in history was where Hilena's similarities to her mother ended. Hullen would say his daughter inherited her mother's beauty too. Though there was truth to his statement, Hilena was still not her mother. _I don't mind not being like my mother. I wish I'd known her. I wish I could've made her proud._ Then, she felt a twinge of guilt for internally dubbing the old kirtle as trash.

Hilena stood up with a sigh and stripped off her jerkin, tunic, and riding boots; grabbing the chemise, and then the kirtle. She wrestled them on over her trousers, not bothering with smallclothes. Eventually, the girl got both items on, and she ran her fingers over the cloth.

The commoner turned around and peered at her reflection from behind. The clothing hugged what little curvature Hilena had, rather it clung to the muscles of her arms, shoulders, and back. _At least I can fill out my breeches._ She smirked at memories of insults other girls used to hurl at her. Why they did such a thing, she would never understand, and not once had she returned their taunts.

 _Let people gawk. Even Father won't care if it's form-fitting. He'll be in shock that I even wore something like this. I wonder if he'll recognize it._ _I still need to wash up though._ There was a privy right next to her room, with a bath and all the rest. _Good thing I already have some cold and clean water ready._ The commoner took off her layers, then threw on a loose tunic.

Then another thing in the chest caught her eye. Curious, Hilena got to her knees again and moved aside the clothes covering what she spotted. _Silky dark fur._ She grabbed the item and got to her feet, letting it unfurl. _A refined cloak._ The girl's eyes widened. _Stark's cloak._ Hilena dropped it as if it had burned her. Frantically, she grabbed the old gift and stuffed it to the bottom of her chest.

_I don't need a cloak, anyway._

After rigorously bathing and getting dressed, Hilena left her home and returned to Winterfell. The courtyard was a hectic sight, people scrambling everywhere and the air congested with shouting. Hilena's father had informed her earlier that she, him, and his wife Sara would all be standing with the Starks and other high ranking residents to greet the royal host. Where that was, the commoner had no idea, so she resigned to wander about.

"For a second I didn't recognize you, Lena." The girl turned to face the deep voice, finding her brother Harwin grinning down at her, dressed in his guard uniform with a sword at his hip. Hilena let out a small laugh and brought him into a hug.

"I barely recognize myself."

"Father will be pleased," Harwin said, "Well, let's hope so at least. I think not smelling like horses and having done your hair down will increase his... good opinion."

Other than putting on formal clothes, the girl had taken out her braid and washed her hair thoroughly. Hilena was far from knowledgeable on hairstyles, but she had produced something presentable. Her hair was mostly down, some sections twisted, forming a small braid in the back. She did not bother with rouge or perfume because she did not own any, and could not afford them.

"You look _very_ handsome in your armor," Hilena responded with an air of sarcasm, clasping her brother's ironclad shoulders. "The serving girls will be all over you at the feast."

"Oh, I'm sure." Her brother let out a heavy sigh, "You'll have to watch out though. A dress will give some boys ideas—"

"I'm wearing trousers," she asserted, "And even if I wasn't, these _ideas_ wouldn't become more than a thought. Well, if the boy had sense. If not, he's in for a rude awakening."

"Of course," Harwin continued with a smirk, "Well, I'm supposed to be standing outside the castle, ready for the king. I'll see you later." He put a hand to Hilena's cheek, leaning down to kiss her forehead gently. She grinned and waved to her brother as he left the courtyard.

Suddenly, the number of people in the courtyard doubled, guardsmen and servants rushing to stand in organized lines. Through the bustle of the crowd, a confused Hilena recognized a short figure with raven black hair.

"Jon!" the girl shouted, rushing over to her friend. He turned to her and did a double-take, remaining in place. She stopped in front of him and asked, "What's going on?"

"The king will be here any minute," the Snow informed her, "best we get to our places." Hilena nodded, the two beginning to walk together. He continued, "I assume you're standing nearby, to me and the Starks?"

"Yes, but you know where to go. My father didn't tell me as much," she answered, then with a sardonic tone, "I'm _so_ excited to be in your family's _elite_ presence. I'm _very_ blessed by the good graces of the Starks and the Old Gods, aren't I?"

"Indeed. No doubt you're _especially_ elated to see my brother."

"Oh, _especially_." Hilena glanced at Jon with a smile, then both broke out into laughter.

"Hilena!" The girl and the Snow turned toward the voice and spotted Hullen some yards away. "Come over here. Come on, we don't have much time."

Hilena gave a parting glimpse to Jon, then moved to stand by her father. Beside him was his wife Sara, a stout and buxom woman of three-and-forty with flaxen hair and soft olive green eyes.

"Oh, isn't she beautiful! Look at 'er hair!" Sara reached out, taking a strand of Hilena's hair between her fingers. "My dear Hullen, you're so lucky to have such a... lovely maiden for a daughter." Hilena's lips pressed into a deep frown and she wrinkled her nose, Sara letting go of her hair upon noticing her stepdaughter's disapproving expression.

"Thank you, love," Hullen replied, glaring at Hilena. Still, Sara smiled and kissed her husband on the cheek. He grinned back, wide and bright. Hilena turned her gaze away, her heart constricting in her chest. _Did you smile that way with my mother? Your dear Mari?_

The girl took her place on her father's right side, Sara at his left. The commoner surveyed the people in front of her. Jon was two rows ahead of her, next to Theon Greyjoy. Her favorite stablehand, Hodor, was off to the side, and the Starks were all at the forefront. There was tall Lord Stark who wore a heavy fur cloak, Lady Catelyn with her crimson hair, Sansa Stark with her bright copper locks, and Robb Stark with his auburn curls and a pelt around his shoulders.

"Where's Arya?" Lady Stark whispered urgently, "Sansa, where's your sister?" The eldest Stark girl shrugged in response. A moment later, little Arya came sprinting towards the group, wearing a guard's helmet of all things. A small smile spread across Hilena's face at the sight.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey." Lord Stark caught his young daughter's arm, bringing her towards him. "What are you doing with that on?" Arya's father swiftly took off the helmet, then said, "Go on." The Stark girl groaned in defeat and shoved her brother Bran out of the way.

Hilena turned her eyes away from them, focusing ahead to the new arrivals. First came a man in brilliant golden armor atop a white horse, behind him a boy with blond hair who wore rich burgundy clothes and a luxurious pelt for a cloak.

 _That must be the prince,_ Hilena realized, _Joffrey? That's it. Seven hells, he's ugly._ Behind the prince was a man in steel armor, sporting a helm in the shape of a snarling hound. Then, a huge and intricate wheelhouse made of oiled wood and gilded metal entered and stopped. _I've never seen so much extravagance._

Finally, the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms arrived with more men in golden armor. Except, this immense man riding a black warhorse could not be _the_ Robert Baratheon. He was rounder than Hullen, with a wiry black beard and sagging face as red as an apple. _No way this is_ the _king._

"He's a _mess,_ " Hilena blurted under her breath, saying so as everyone around her kneeled. Only a second too late did the girl get to her knee, stumbling due to the length of her clothes. Her actions and words were followed by poorly repressed giggles. _He is, though. What kind of king looks like that? An old rich one, I suppose._

From beside her, Hullen scolded, "Watch your tongue, girl." Eventually, everyone stood up, Hilena trying to get a decent view of what was occurring.

"Your Grace," Lord Stark said, bowing his head to the king in front of him.

The Baratheon paused for a moment, then said, "You've got fat."

Hilena had to do everything in her power not to break out into roaring laughter. _Maybe he is my king._ Lord Stark and the king began laughing, entering a tight hug. Robert Baratheon greeted each member of House Stark; embracing Lady Catelyn, shaking hands with Robb, and complimenting Sansa and Bran.

Hilena stopped listening to the highborns, regarding the guests once again. The first man in the resplendent armor removed his helmet, revealing a handsome face and long blonde hair.

 _The Kingslayer,_ the girl identified, _Jaime Lannister._ Next, Hilena turned her attention to the approaching queen. _Cersei Lannister, the twin sister of the Kingslayer._ She too was beautiful and had long blonde hair. _Definitely twins._

Lord Stark kissed her pale hand and said, "My queen." Lady Stark curtseyed and repeated the courtesy.

"Take me to your crypt," the king interrupted, "I want to pay my respects."

"We've been riding for a month, my love," the queen responded with no warmth in her voice, "Surely the dead can wait." The Baratheon ignored his wife, turning to Lord Stark.

"Ned," the king addressed, then turned to stalk away. Lord Eddard promptly ducked away from the crowd to follow. With the pair gone, everyone else was left clueless. _This is not how I imagined this to go._

The nighttime feast made up for all the disappointments of the morning. Laughter and shouting congested the Great Hall of Winterfell. Large banners of canvas painted with depictions of direwolves, stags, and lions were draped on the stone walls. Iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling, raised by ropes, filling the vast room with rutilant candlelight.

Hilena sat among the other smallfolk of Winterfell and afar, excited to partake in as much drink and conversation as she pleased. Thankfully, she had convinced her father to let her wear normal clothing to the event. Jon Snow was beside her, allowed to be at the feast among the poor due to his bastard status. Before the feasting began though, the highborns made their extravagant entrance. The procession was near Hilena and Jon, so they received a good view of everyone.

To begin, Lord Stark came with the queen at his arm, the blonde donning the most fabricated smile Hilena had ever seen. Next was King Robert and Lady Stark, the former appearing as an even greater letdown than when he arrived, sweating through his silks.

"You weren't wrong about him being a mess," Jon whispered into her ear, "That was a _very_ ladylike observation, by the way."

"Thank you," she murmured back, "You know, it's hard to envision a man who looks half in his cups as the giant, fierce warrior who won the Trident and took the Iron Throne."

Out of nowhere, little Rickon Stark was standing in front of Jon and Hilena, having come over to see his brother.

"Go on," the Snow urged, nudging his brother in the right direction with a smile. Jon turned to Hilena and said, "Don't look now, it's your favorite person."

Hilena rolled her eyes and glared at the passersby. Robb Stark walked with the princess Myrcella at his arm. She was a pretty girl at the edge of womanhood with cascading golden curls. The princess directed shy glances and smiles at the Stark, all the while he was grinning like a fool.

"I think the princess is insipid," Jon muttered. _More like your brother._

"She's a _girl_ ," Hilena joked instead, shaking her head, "She's just young and rich is all."

Next was the Stark girls, each paired with a prince. Arya was utterly despondent next to little Tommen, while Sansa appeared radiant next to Joffrey. The crown prince appeared bored and regarded the room with disdain. _A royal prick, that one._ After the four were the Lannister brothers, though Jaime and Tyrion did not resemble each other. Jaime was tall and handsome, with a smile that cut like a knife. And well, Tyrion was a dwarf, though not unattractive.

"Don't you think Jaime is what a king should look like?" Jon asked Hilena, his gaze lingering on the Lion of Lannister.

"Any fool can look like a king," she mumbled.

Lastly, Theon Greyjoy and Benjen Stark, Jon's uncle and a man of the Night's Watch, drew up the back. Benjen directed a warm smile at the Snow as he passed. Once everyone had reached their proper spots, toasts were made and thanks given.

Finally, the feast began. In no time Jon began filling his cup from a passing flagon of summerwine. Hilena was not fond of wine, so she found a tankard which she poured a hearty lager into.

"Hungry again?" Jon said to no one in particular. Confused, Hilena scanned around them, then noticed a pair of scarlet eyes beneath the table. _Oh, it's Ghost._

The Stark's direwolves had become a source of many delights and frustrations. Ghost was Hilena's favorite. The albino wolf was not aggressive to her, even letting her pet him or play with him. She had seen little of Arya's one named Nymeria, Sansa's named Lady, or Bran's wolf that had no name. They were all well-behaved beasts, even little Arya's despite her owner's wildness. Shaggydog, Rickon's wolf, was the real troublemaker. The wolf continuously scared the horses and people, causing multiple accidents that resulted in someone getting hurt.

Grey Wind, Robb's direwolf, was a whole other topic. The wolf did not leave Hilena alone. Sometimes, it seemed as if Grey Wind preferred her over his owner. Surprisingly, it had caused no awkward moments between Hilena and the eldest Stark. The pair had silently accepted the wolf's will and let him do as he pleased.

With Jon distracted with his direwolf, Hilena regarded the feast as she sipped at her ale. Smoke filled the hall and hung in the air, stinging her eyes, and permeating her nose. The faint sound of bards singing and playing their lutes filled the air, drowned out by the clangor of goblets and a hundred conversations.

Then someone captured her attention. _Esric._ Hilena wished she looked away immediately. Rather, the girl kept staring at him. He had an arm around some young woman. He was whispering in her ear, and they were both smiling and laughing. Hilena was not jealous, but disappointed. _I hope this ends well for her._

It had been half a year since she and Esric ended their relationship. It had taken off quickly, and at first, it had been exciting. _Then it all went to shit._ As more and more time passed, so did Esric's insistence on going further.Every time he trailed down to her neck and lifted her jerkin, she shoved him away. Hilena always had cursory excuses to combat Esric's insistence, but the truth was it had never felt right.Eventually, she had enough and ended their entanglement.

Hilena never told her family the specifics of why it all ended. Simply, she had said she ended things. _It wasn't working out. That's what I said. My one chance at marriage... like it matters anymore. I can live as a spinster for the rest of my days._

The commoner snapped out of her thoughts as her previous lover found her gaze. Hilena's heart lurched in panic and she hastily broke the eye contact. It was too late, though. In her periphery, she saw him stand up and start coming over to where she sat.

"Shit," Hilena cursed and put down her tankard, turning to her friend, "Uh, Jon, I have to go."

The Snow, who at some point started talking with his uncle Benjen Stark, gave her a concerned glance and asked, "Everything all right?"

"Yes, just need fresh air," she lied, "Smoke's hurting my eyes."

"Well, you better come back. You've hardly had anything to drink." Hilena grinned and nodded, then jumped from her seat and speedily exited the hall. She was out soon enough and turned a corner into a dimly lit hallway.

"You couldn't take your eyes off me in there." Esric smirked down at her, his teeth a surprisingly bright flash of white. Hilena stumbled back to not crash into him. She averted her gaze, peering beyond the boy of seven-and-ten.

"You're mistaken," Hilena asserted, "I must be going." She motioned to walk around him, but Esric shifted to stand in front of her again.

"Hilena, come on," he soothed and reached out to her, "Come sit with me. That bastard's broodin' and talkin' must get boring. Seven hells, you even talk like 'im and them highborns." The girl scrunched her nose at the insults.

"I was heading to the privy, and I'll be sitting with Jon when I return," she replied, also bringing her gaze up to meet Esric's dark eyes, framed by thick brows. He was undeniably handsome, with pronounced cheekbones and broad shoulders. But she no longer wanted him that way. Hilena inhaled and continued, "Besides, don't you have someone to return to yourself? You both looked very happy."

"She's no one," he said, all suave, "Just another girl. Not like you." _Oh, seven hells,_ Hilena groaned internally, shifting her eyes away from him.

"Don't bother with that. Now, let me pass."

"If you say so," Esric responded, stepping to the side. She walked past him, then a hand grasped her wrist and swung back her around. _He does something good and always reverses it,_ Hilena lamented.

"Hilena," the boy murmured with a smug expression, still holding her wrist. _He's actually trying this? Seven hells._

"Unhand me," she retorted, lacing her words with all the sham sweetness she could muster. Esric's sly smile remained on his face, but he loosened his grip and her hand dropped like a stone.

"I'll see you around," he said with a wink, bringing a hand to the back of his head. The boy walked away, but not before glancing back with a glint in his eye. Hilena arched a brow and Esric let out a guffaw, then finally rounded the hallway corner. _What a prick._

The girl turned away from where Esric departed, staring down the corridor. _For fuck's sake!_ When Hilena gazed in front of her, low and behold, Robb Stark was strolling down the hallway in her direction. _I can't go the other way now, can I?_

With a sigh, Hilena walked down the hallway. Towards someone whom she wished to avoid as much as Esric. _I want no_ _more contact with men for the night._

As the two approached each other, the commoner blurted, "M'lord." _SHIT._

The Stark averted his eyes and walked past her. "Lena."

Hilena froze in place.The nickname had dropped from his lips like there was no weight in doing so. _He did not call me that. No way._ She spared a quick glimpse over her shoulder to see he too had stopped. _What now?_ The girl wrinkled her nose, staring down to the ground.

Then, Hilena turned around to face the Stark. "How are you, m'lord?" Evidently perplexed, the boy spun around to face her.

With his eyes directed at the ground, he answered, "Fine, you? Enjoying the feast?"

"Yes, it's grand," she answered monotonously, "Though I was just leaving." Hilena focused on the Stark, noted his fidgeting, the light dancing around the hallway and him. _He's taller than I remember._

"That's unfortunate," he hesitated, his eyes still on the ground, "Why?"

"Too many people, too much going on. I've never been one for pageantry."

A minuscule smile spread on his face. "Of course."

Hilena's stomach knotted.

"Well, I hope the rest of it is pleasant. Good night, m'lord." The girl bowed her head, then stormed away from the Stark.

Once Hilena turned the corner, she laid herself flat against the wall. _That's the first time we've spoken in years._ The knotting in her stomach returned, a feeling that thoroughly confused her. _This is ridiculous_ , the commoner affirmed herself, shoving herself from the wall, _Everything will return to normal. It'll pass._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter two!! next one is from a different pov...


	6. JON I

Jon Snow inhaled and announced brusquely, "I'm joining the Night's Watch."

Across the table from the bastard, Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy had vastly different reactions. Robb's jaw hung slack and his eyes widened in surprise. Theon rolled his eyes and took a long sip from his tankard.

"You're taking the black?" the Stark reiterated, thick eyebrows creasing in disbelief.

"Yes, that's what I said," Jon replied, frowning, "I'll be leaving the same day as the royal host."

The Greyjoy scoffed which elicited a glare from the Snow. The trio went silent, Jon taking up his fork to pick at his breakfast of ham and eggs in a wooden bowl. _I was hoping for more of a response,_ the bastard moped.

The Great Hall was empty except for the three boys, the other highborns and servants that dined there having left for their daily activities. Daylight streamed through long windows, the blue sky outside cloudless.

"I'm going to train in the yard with the prince today," Robb said, staring down into his food, which he moved around with his fork leisurely. _So we're brushing off what I said?_

"Joffrey?" Theon sneered, "He'll be an easy opponent." _We're ignoring it then._

"How do you know?" Jon responded, matching the older boy's snide tone. The Snow had never liked Ned Stark's ward. _He's got a stick up his ass, thinks he's better than everyone._

"I mean... look at him." The Greyjoy waved his hand in front of his face. "He's incredibly ugly."

"And how does the prince being ugly make it so I'll win?" Robb inquired, his gaze remaining downward into his food.

"You'll want to beat him quickly so you don't have to keep looking at him," Theon quipped, "Don't want his ugliness rubbing off on you either." The Stark let out a snort of laughter, as did Jon. _Theon may be an ass, but he's funny sometimes._

The Snow smiled and continued off of Theon's joke, "You can't afford to appear any worse than you already do, Stark." Robb lunged forward and caught Jon off guard, the bastard stumbling backward off the bench. Instead of getting up, the Stark leaned back into his spot and began laughing. "Seven hells," Jon cursed with a laugh as he sat back down.

"He's not lying, Robb," Theon said while eating eggs, "You can't afford to lose your looks. Especially after everyone leaves Winterfell and you're left in charge, hm?" The Greyjoy elbowed his friend, the older boy's signature smirk on his face.

"Shut up about that," the Stark groaned, "Nothing will happen, Theon."

"What would happen?" Jon asked.

Theon glanced at the Snow, a condescending glint in his blue-grey eyes. "Robb didn't tell you, did he?"

Jon's half-brother rolled his eyes. "Don't make such a big deal—"

"This one here talked to a certain someone at the welcoming feast," the older boy interrupted, speaking in a singsong voice, "Your friend that is, Snow."

Jon's eyebrows knitted in confusion, then it dawned on him. "You talked to Hilena?"

The Stark exhaled, covering his face with a hand. "Yes."

"Shockingly she didn't punch or insult him," Theon jested, grinning again, "I didn't realize she could go a second without being a total bitch."

"Shut up, will you?" Jon retorted, "You don't know her." _Asshole._

"Yeah, piss off, Theon," Robb added.

The Greyjoy only waved his hand dismissively. "I swear to the gods, you two make such a fuss over a _common_ girl who isn't even that pretty. I'm not so caught up over one woman, and funnily enough, I'm also the only one out of us three who has bedded a girl."

"Don't think that's related," the Snow remarked, narrowing his eyes at the older boy, "Unlike you, our main aim in life isn't bedding every girl in Winterfell. Or rather, every miller's wife." Jon's last statement garnered a stifled laugh from his half-brother. Expressionless, Theon pushed himself up to stand and left the hall.

The Snow waited until the older boy was out of earshot before cursing, "Asshole. What makes him think he can talk about her like that?"

"I couldn't tell you, Snow," Robb grumbled, getting to his feet, "I better get to training."

Before the Stark left, Jon asked, "What did you talk about? With Hilena?"

Robb stopped and replied, "Nothing. It doesn't matter." The Snow observed his half-brother's expression and knew that his statements were lies. As a bastard, he had learned to read the truth in people's eyes. _He's excited but wary._

"I'll ask her to watch the sparring with me," Jon proposed with a smirk, "Also, you're a liar. Come on, what's going on?" The Stark narrowed his eyes, his lips pressing into a firm line.

"It went that badly?" Jon laughed, which earned the bastard an even dirtier look. The Snow had known Hilena since he was ten-years-old, like his brother. She and Robb had been much closer then, but that had all changed two years ago. It was a messy affair that Jon still did not fully understand.

_Hilena would have never stopped being friends with Robb because of their different statuses. She fought to be friends with him despite everything. They both fought. Did it take what happened with Lord Tallhart and her brother to separate them? Well, that and what Robb was yammering on about._

When Jon was younger, he had suspicions that his half-brother was infatuated with Hilena. The longing stares, siding with her, taking every minute of freedom to spend time with her, and much more gave way to Robb's true feelings. Then, not long before the Tallhart incident, the Stark confided to the Snow that he wished to confess his emotions to Hilena.

 _He thought she felt the same way. Hilena might've, but she wasn't obvious about it._ Jon never confronted either Robb or Hilena about their friendship ending. Well, he had tried asking his half-brother once, but that had ended in a fierce argument. _It's a sensitive subject._

"So, the Night's Watch," Robb said after a moment of silence, unsurprisingly changing the topic. "I'll miss you, Snow."

"And I, you, Stark," Jon replied, a sad smile on his face. "But that's not important now, is it? You have a crown prince to beat and I have a friend to speak with."  
  
  


**»»----—-—-—-—--- ---—-—-—-—----««**  
  
  


"Seven hells, you can do better than that," Jon cursed under his breath. From the sill of an open window, the boy observed the scene splayed in front of him, a leg languidly drawn up to his chest. Down in the courtyard, many of the king's retinue and Winterfell residents were in attendance. The crown prince and Robb were sparring under old Ser Rodrick Cassel's watchful eye. No one was close to winning.

"I'll be pissed if Stark wins." The bastard glanced at Hilena nearby him, leaning serenely against the window while petting Ghost by her side. The pair and direwolf regarded the sparring from afar, at the covered bridge between the armory and Great Keep. _No one would let us watch with the highborns._

"Why?" Jon inquired, looking back to the action. The boys were still at it. Every time one seemed to have an advantage, the other beat his opponent back. _Can't Joffrey just falter?_

"I made a bet with Harwin before I came up here to meet you," the girl sighed and continued, "I bet your brother would lose, at least once. So far that hasn't happened and I'm not about to lose three coppers."

"Only three coppers?" Jon gazed back at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Only?" Hilena glared at the boy, her hazel eyes boring into him. "That's a lot for some people. It could buy me a loaf of bread."

The Snow bowed his head and refocused on the fight. _I can't blame her for being touchy about wealth._ The clatter of the wooden swords resounded every time they met, swat after swat. Eventually, Joffrey got caught off guard and knocked back into the dirt.

It put a smile on Jon's face and a frown on Hilena's. Cheers and clapping erupted from Stark men, while the Lannisters and Baratheons glowered. The Southerners had been in Winterfell for a week and appeared nowhere near content with the castle and its people.

"I guess you owe your brother three coppers," the boy quipped.

"They'll go for another round soon enough," the commoner replied. Ser Rodrick brought forward little Bran and Tommen to go against each other. Both wore an obscene amount of quilted armor and bore padded wooden swords. They began hitting each other, huffing and waddling.

A moment later, Ghost moved away from Hilena. The Snow's eyes tracked the direwolf until a figure came into view. There stood his sister Arya Stark, breathless and hair awry with her wolf Nymeria at her side.

"Shouldn't you be working on your stitches, little sister?" the Snow asked.

Arya made an annoyed face and answered, "I wanted to see them fight." _I'm not surprised._

"Come on, then," Jon said with a smile. The girl ran over with Nymeria at her heels, and as she got close, Hilena backed up from her spot.

"You can sit on the window, m'lady," the commoner whispered with a bowed head. Arya clambered onto the windowsill next to Jon, then regarded the other girl.

"You don't have to call me a lady. Are you Harwin's sister?"

"Yes."

"You're a hunter! And you know how to fight with a sword!" Arya exclaimed, her grey eyes sparkling, "Your brother Harwin talks about you, so has Robb and Jon. I wish I could do things like that, but Father would never let me."

Hilena, taken aback, responded, "Does your lord father let you shoot with a bow and arrow?"

"No," the Stark answered solemnly, "Why?"

"You should ask him about it. I pursued archery when I was your age, and Lord Stark approved."

Arya smiled her toothy grin at the statement. Jon gave Hilena a surprised glance, his friend scrunching her nose in irritation in return.The trio all started studying the younger boys drilling, still puffing and hobbling around.

"Fighting is a shade more exhausting than needlework," the Snow said.

"A shade more fun than needlework," Arya retorted. The boy smiled at that, reaching over to his sister and ruffling her brown hair. Jon had always cared the most for Arya of all the Stark children. _She sees me as her brother just as much as her trueborn ones._ She did not have her mother's Tully image like her siblings. Arya and Jon both had their father's long face and dark hair. _I am still a bastard,_ Jon thought.

"Why aren't you down in the yard?" Arya asked.

"Bastards are not allowed to damage young princes," he said with a thin smile, "Any bruises they take in the practice yard must come from trueborn swords." Arya let out a small _oh_ , and Hilena scoffed.

"I could do just as good as Bran," the Stark asserted, "He's only ten. I'm _eleven_."

Jon, six-and-ten going on seven-and-ten, looked over her. "You're too skinny." He grasped her arm and felt the muscle, then sighed and shook his head. "I doubt you could even lift a longsword, little sister, never mind swing one." Arya snatched her arm away and scowled at Jon. The bastard reached out and messed up her hair again.

"You see Prince Joffrey?" he asked as Bran and Tommen circled. "Look at the arms on his surcoat." On the padded cloth was an ornate shield, the arms divided down the middle. On one side the crowned Baratheon stag was embroidered, on the other the roaring Lannister lion. "The Lannisters are proud. You'd think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. He makes his mother's house equal in honor to the king's."

"The woman is important too!" Arya objected, which elicited a chuckle out of Hilena.

"Perhaps you should do the same thing," the older girl suggested, "Wed Tully to Stark in your arms."

"A wolf with a fish in its mouth?" Arya laughed at the notion. "That would look silly. Besides, if a girl can't fight, why should she have a coat of arms?"

Hilena shrugged. "Girls get the arms but not the swords."

"Bastards get the swords but not the arms," Jon added, "We did not make the rules, little sister."

Suddenly, a shout came from the courtyard. Prince Tommen lay on the ground, rolling in the dust as he tried to get to his feet. Bran held his wooden sword above the other boy, prepared to strike the prince. All the surrounding men began laughing.

"Enough!" Ser Rodrick yelled, helping Tommen onto his feet. "Well fought. Lew, Donnis, help them out of their armor. Prince Joffrey, Robb, will you go another round?" Robb, sweaty from the previous fight, stepped forward eagerly.

"Gladly," he said. In the Snow's periphery, Hilena shifted to lean out the window further. Joffrey moved into the light with a bored expression, the sun shining on his golden hair.

"This is a game for children, Ser Rodrick," the prince patronized.

Theon Greyjoy let out a bark of laughter and said, "You are children." _Shut up._

"Robb may be a child," Joffrey answered, "I am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword." _He has a stick up his ass. Same as Theon._

"You got more swats than you gave, Joff," Robb shot back, "Are you afraid?"

Prince Joffrey turned to the Stark. "Oh, terrified. You're _so_ much older." Some Lannister men laughed, and Jon grimaced.

"Joffrey is truly a little shit," the Snow seethed.

Old Rodrick stroked his white beard and asked, "What are you suggesting?"

"Live steel," Joffrey declared.

"They can't!" Hilena blurted under her breath.

"Done," Robb yelled back at the prince, "You'll be sorry!"

"Why not live steel?" Jon peered at his friend. "Don't tell me you're concerned."

"Piss off," the girl answered without sparing the Snow a glance.

Rodrick put a hand on the Stark boy's shoulder. "Live steel is too dangerous. I will permit you tourney swords, with blunted edges." Then, a tall knight with a terrible burned face pushed his way forward. _The Hound_ , Jon identified, _he scares me._

The man began speaking, "This is your prince. Who are you to tell him he may not have an edge on his sword, _ser_?"

"Master-at-arms of Winterfell, Clegane, and you would do well not to forget it."

"Are you training women here?"

"I am training _knights_ ," Ser Rodrick replied, "They will have steel when they are ready. When they are of an age."

The Hound then turned to Robb. "How old are you, boy?"

"Sixteen," the Stark said.

"I killed a man at twelve. You can be sure it was not with a blunt sword." That put a foul taste in Jon's mouth. Robb bristled at the comment, his pride wounded.

"Let me do it," he demanded, turning to Ser Rodrick, "I can beat him." _What an idiot._

"Beat him with a tourney blade, then," the old Cassel answered.

Joffrey shrugged. "Come and see me when you're older, Stark. If you're not _too_ old." The Lannister men laughed once again. Robb began cursing furiously, Theon Greyjoy seizing him so he would not lunge at the prince. Joffrey faked a yawn and turned to his younger brother.

"Come, Tommen. The hour of play is done. Leave the children to their frolics." The Lannisters howled with laughter, and Robb swore even more. Ser Rodrick was red with fury, and Theon kept the Stark boy in an iron grip as the royal party left. After everyone calmed down and took their leave, Jon climbed off the windowsill.

"The show is done," the Snow remarked. Ghost had laid down by the window, the boy leaning down to scratch the white wolf's ears. "You had best run back to your room, little sister. Septa Mordane will surely be lurking. The longer you hide, the sterner the penance. You'll be sewing all through winter. When the spring thaw comes they will find your body with a needle still locked tight between your frozen fingers."

"I hate needlework!" Arya declared passionately, all seriousness, "It's not fair!"

"Nothing is fair," Jon said gravely. Once again he mussed up his sister's hair. Arya let out a heavy breath and departed with her wolf. _You'll understand one day, little sister._ The Snow turned to Hilena, who was still leaning against the window. "It seems you owe your brother."

"Yes, it seems so," she replied, her eyes still lingering on the courtyard. Jon walked over to her and examined the yard. Most of the people had dispersed except for Robb, Theon, and Rodrick Cassel. The Greyjoy and master-at-arms appeared to be lecturing the Stark.

"You were quite worried about the prince and Robb fighting with live steel," Jon remarked, his tone teasing, "Why would that be?"

"Why does it matter?" Hilena said and stepped away from the window.

"Robb told me you two talked at the feast." The Snow too left the window, beginning to walk toward the Great Keep. "I thought you hated him and refused to speak to him."

"I never said I—," the girl began, then let out a grumble. She strode to his side, Ghost between them. "He's an insufferable ass. That conversation was out of courtesy." 

_For someone so kind, she treats Robb horribly._ _I wish I knew what happened._ Theon's earlier insults jumped back into Jon's thoughts. Uncomfortable with the idea that they had any validity, the Snow thrust the memory away. Even if her behaviors somewhat irked Jon, bringing it up now was likely a poor decision. 

Instead, a smile formed on the bastard's lips and he quipped, "And you were staring at him in the courtyard out of courtesy?" Jon received a punch in the shoulder for his remark. "Seven hells! Out of courtesy, then."

"You're an asshole," Hilena said with a grin, "But sufferable." The boy's smile widened as the pair approached the door to the Great Keep. _Wait,_ Jon remembered, _I need to tell her._

"Hilena, I have to tell you something." The Snow stopped to regard his friend.

"What is it?" She returned his gaze attentively, none the wiser. Ghost between them sat on his haunches, panting.

"I'm going to—," Jon paused and swallowed thickly, "I'm joining the Night's Watch."

"I—," Hilena hesitated, her mouth agape, "I didn't think you were seriously considering that."

The Snow had thought about taking the black for a long time, usually confessing his aspiration to do so to Hilena. He joked about it, sometimes, quipping about living his entire life as a frozen celibate stuck in black. _It's the life I've chosen for my future, and I won't be able to go back once I've sworn my vows. I hope I'll mean them._

"I've talked with my uncle Benjen and my father. I'll be leaving for the Wall the same day the royal host departs."

"So soon?" The girl wrinkled her nose and questioned, "Will it make you happy?"

 _Will it? Nobody's asked this before._ The Snow studied Hilena and realized she was genuinely worried about his future. _I think she and Arya are the only ones who_ truly _care, perhaps Robb as well. Not Father, not Benjen Stark, not anyone else._

After Hilena had left King Robert's welcoming feast, Jon had spoken with his uncle. Benjen Stark was First Ranger of the Night's Watch, and the Snow worshiped him. Jon had been so sure of wanting to join the black brothers. He had been ready to take the oath, but Benjen kept bringing up drawbacks.

 _No families. No sons. No wives or lovers._ None of that mattered to Jon. _What don't I understand because I've never "known" a woman?_ Then Benjen had told Jon to see how he felt after he bore a couple of bastards. _I will never father a bastard_ , the boy affirmed in his mind, fury filling him at the memory, _Never! My uncle is wrong. Never._

 _But if I don't join the Watch, what place could I hope to earn otherwise?_ Robb would one day inherit Winterfell, be its lord and Warden of the North. Bran and Rickon would be their older brother's bannermen and rule holdfasts. Sansa and Arya would marry lordlings of other great houses and be mistresses of southern castles. Hilena might find a husband, have children, and live contently. _I have no place. Not among the highborn, or the low._

"There is nothing for me in Winterfell except for more of the same," Jon paused and folded his arms across his chest, thinking on his words. "And besides, I'm sure I can visit often, and you and the others can visit me. It's not like I'm going to Dorne or Essos."

"Will Arya take it well?" Hilena asked, glancing back to where they had stood. "She'll miss you more terribly if you go to the Wall than if you stayed in Winterfell."

"She'll be fine," Jon smiled at the thought of his sister. "Arya's a fierce thing. And I'll give her something to remember me by."

"A gift?" the girl said, eyebrows raised.

"A sword," the Snow revealed, "I've started discussing it with Mikken."

"She'll love that, for sure," Hilena replied, then scrunched her nose. "Winterfell will be lonely without you." Jon had always liked the commoner for her honesty and humor, but in moments like these, he valued her compassion above all else. _She and Arya are some of the best, aren't they?_

He wanted to thank her, but mustered a joke instead, "Don't worry, you'll have the _great_ company of Robb and Theon." The two laughed ruefully and Jon thought, _We've never been ones for profound conversations._

"You have to send letters," Hilena added, "Tell me about the Wall, your black brothers, wildlings, and what other grumkins and snarks lie to the far North."

"Then you must write about what it's like here without me. It will thrill, I'm sure," Jon said, "But we have time. Want to go on a walk in the Winter Town?"

"I'd love to." The girl grinned and opened the door beside them, taking off down the staircase with Ghost on her heels. With a laugh, Jon chased after her and his wolf, throwing all thoughts of the frigid future ahead of him aside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ya jon is a pov in this! next chapter is back to hilena


	7. HILENA II

"I don't understand why I can't come with you," Hilena grumbled, roughly pulling down on a leather strap of the saddle atop her brother's large tan rounsey, Vagabond.

"You know why, Lena," Harwin said matter-of-factly, adjusting the reins. The girl let out a dejected sigh, finished with securing the saddle. The day before the royal host was meant to leave Winterfell, Robert ordered a large boar hunt. Harwin had been invited by Lord Stark to join the host.

Hilena had not been invited by anyone.

"I'm a _girl_ ," she mocked with a deep voice, then returning to her normal tone, "It doesn't matter. I prefer to hunt alone. Less clamor, fewer _men._ " Hilena walked to grab Vagabond's reins, holding them tight as Harwin, in his guard armor, mounted the rounsey. "Don't die out there with all of those highborns." Hilena detached his sword belt from her hip, which she handed to him.

"Never," her brother affirmed, securing the sword belt and then patting the sheath. With a smile, Harwin urged his horse forward to join the hunting party gathered in the courtyard. A few moments later, King Robert called out and the party left, the yard falling silent. Slowly, the normal business of Winterfell picked up, and the noises of hustle and bustle started again.

Looking around the lively courtyard, Hilena spotted little Bran Stark leaning in an archway, his unnamed direwolf beside him. The boy caught sight of her, gave a small wave, then ran off. Her mouth curved into a half-smile at the sight of the Stark.

The commoner had always liked Bran, a sweet boy quick to laugh and hard not to love. His climbing tendencies were always fun to observe, but like all that knew the Stark, Hilena hoped he would never fall. _He, Jon, and Arya help make living here worth it._

It was a cloudy and foreboding day, the sky grey and dark. However, the day was still early, and Hilena needed to check on the horses. _I have a job after all._ First, she went to Jenny; the girl stroking the chestnut mare's forehead. The horse nudged against her owner's hand, then nipped at Hilena's fingers.

" _Shit!_ Bad girl!" Hilena huffed and tore her hand away, shocked by the pain. "I thought I taught you to not nip." The mare whinnied and shook her head vigorously. "So you're hungry, hm? I'll go get you a carrot, how about that?"

Jenny gave no discernible response. _It's not like horses to understand me,_ the girl thought as she shook out her hand, _To the_ _glass gardens then._ The greenhouse was on the other side of the castle, but the girl enjoyed the long walk. Well, she enjoyed everything about the path except going through the Godswood.

What had once been a place of peace and fun now held reminders of an unpleasant memory in every leaf and corner. Hilena tried to never go into the woods, especially avoiding the gigantic weirwood and the large black pool in its shade.

As the commoner entered the Godswood, she instead focused on a more interesting part of the woods. _The broken tower._ It was a mess of fallen stones and wooden beams; the roof had collapsed long ago. Crows swarmed around the tower, their cawing drowning out any other sound. The noise tempted Hilena to cover her ears, but something on the ground below the tower drew her attention.

A small shape lay in the trim grass, next to it the distinguishable form of a direwolf pup. _Oh, gods._ The girl stopped in her tracks, then started sprinting to the wolf and the shape. Her mind raced with possibilities as she ran, _The wolf attacked one of the children. The wolves_ were _dangerous. No, someone fell? Oh no. What if, finally, he...?_

"BRAN!" Hilena yelled, her heart sinking as she approached. _Not the boy, please. He never falls._ She stopped right next to the wolf, her breathing labored. Bran Stark lay in the grass, near flat on his back. But something was horribly wrong.

His legs bent in unnatural ways, yet there was no blood. His unnamed wolf whined and nudged at his unresponsive owner. _Please don't be dead. Gods, please no._ Hilena came down to her knees and leaned towards the Stark boy. With a tentative hand, she felt his small wrist and its subtle pulse. _Alive. Thank goodness._

"Wait, shit," Hilena cursed, frantically looking around the woods, "Help! _HELP!_ Somebody help!" 

No answer came, so the girl determined she had to find aid herself. _Maester Luwin? His turret is too far away. Lady Catelyn? I have no idea where she might be. Jon? He's been sulking about and won't speak to me._ Hilena ran back to the Godswood's entrance and as soon as she turned, she spotted Maester Luwin walking alone. _Thank the gods._

"Maester Luwin!" the commoner called out, rushing towards him, "Maester!"

The old man stopped and turned to her, wearing a puzzled expression. "What is it, Hilena?"

"Help, maester. I need—well I don't but...," she processed what was going on, taking deep breaths, "I need your help. It's one of the Stark children. Bran. In... in the Godswood."

"What's happened with Bran?"

"He's fallen, I think," Hilena professed, her speech fragmented, "His legs—"

Before the girl could finish, the maester dashed towards the Godswood. Hilena followed close behind, not a word uttered between them until they reached Bran in the grass. The maester bent down next to the boy, reaching a hand out towards the Stark.

"Yes, he's fallen," the old man observed, his voice faltering, "Guards. Get some guards. Lady Catelyn and the hunting party must be informed. Bring Bran to his room. _GO!_ "

At the order, Hilena gave a determined nod and set off. Many of the guards left with the hunting party, but some remained behind. Luckily, she spotted two guards talking by a doorway nearby when she entered the courtyard; Tomard and an unknown man.

"Tom!" the girl shouted, running towards the armored men.

"Well, if it isn't Hilena!" the ginger guard greeted, "Not out huntin', hm?"

"No, but I need your aid," she looked at the other man, who's beady eyes returned her gaze. "And your friend's here."

"This is Heward," Tomard said, jerking his head at the other guard, "He's a newer recruit. What will ye be needin' from us?"

"I'm on orders from Maester Luwin," Hilena said, "One of you must come with me, and the other has to fetch Lady Catelyn. Tell her to go to Bran's bedchamber, it's an emergency. If you can, get her to send word to the hunting party."

"I'll go with ye," Tom replied, "Heward, can ye go get Lady Stark?" The fellow guard nodded and left immediately. "He's not a talker, that one," the guard informed, "Let's go." Tom and Hilena walked to the Godswood, the girl growing nervous about Bran's condition at every step. _What if he's died? Comatose forever? What if he'll never move again? Gods, his legs..._

"Oh good, Tom," Maester Luwin said as Hilena and the guard approached, "Come here, quickly! Please take Brandon, we're going to the boy's bedchamber. Be careful, please." Tomard nodded and kneeled into the grass, tenderly bringing Bran into his arms.

The direwolf pup sprang up from where he laid and yelped at the guard, bounding towards him and clawing at the man's legs. Hilena sighed and went to the wolf, scooping it into her arms like a baby. The pup whined and nuzzled into the girl, but she ignored the wolf. Her eyes remained on Bran's limp body in Tom's arms. _Please be all right_. _Please._

Every step Hilena took forward felt like forever and no time at all. The girl was walking through the long hallways of the Great Keep, then climbing up staircases, then entered a warm bedchamber that must have been Bran's. Lady Catelyn Stark and Heward were already in the room, the older woman rushing towards Bran in Tomard's arms.

The guard carefully laid the Stark boy down onto his bed, and Maester Luwin started observing the boy's state. Lady Stark stood next to the maester, asking him a tirade of questions while she began sobbing. The two guardsmen left the room, but Hilena stayed and gazed at Bran. _Please be all right._

Suddenly there was a wet stickiness on Hilena's face. At that moment, the girl remembered she was holding a direwolf pup, which had just licked her cheek. The commoner peered down at the wolf, meeting its piercing, bright yellow eyes. She cradled the pup's head in her hand, and with her thumb, she stroked its soft face and perked ears.

 _Cute for a wild animal. He should be with his owner._ Hilena walked to the side of the bed opposite Maester Luwin and let the wolf jump down onto it. The pup circled in place before settling down at the feet of his owner, ears folding back as it let out a small yawn.

"Why are you here?" The cold, stinging tone of Lady Stark caught Hilena off guard. The girl backed away from the bed and straightened up.

"I was the one who found your son, m'lady," the commoner replied hastily, "He'd fallen from the broken tower m'lady." _Or perhaps not._ The older woman narrowed her gaze, her face burning red and glistening from tears.

"Get out, girl," Lady Stark choked out, "This matter doesn't concern you." _It doesn't concern me? Sorry for worrying about your son in the first place. Seven hells, I understand I'm not family, but I want to stay._

Hilena repressed her impudent thoughts and simply responded, "M'lady."

As the girl turned to leave the bedchamber, Ned Stark burst into the room with his eldest son. The two Starks rushed towards Bran's bed, and Hilena quietly made her way to the door. She glanced at Bran once more before she left, now surrounded by his family. _He'll be all right. Please, gods, let him be._

Against her better judgment, Hilena looked at Robb Stark. His face was a frozen mask of shock, his form visibly tensed. For a moment, her thoughts turned kind and her expression softened. _How horrible to see a brother like this._ All that vanished when Hilena caught the Stark boy's gaze, his blue eyes full of confusion and pain.

 _I'm not supposed to be here,_ the girl remembered, hurrying out of the doorway and shutting the door in front of her. She let out a shaky breath and stared at her feet. _It'll pass. It'll pass,_ Hilena told herself, placing a hand over her rapidly beating heart.  
  
  


**»»----—-—-—-—--- ---—-—-—-—----««**   
  
  


In the fortnight following Bran Stark's fall, Hilena could not stop thinking about the incident. She had checked on the boy as often as she could. However, Lady Catelyn, who had not left her son's side since he fell, rarely let the commoner linger. Bran had survived many a night, and though the worst of it was supposedly over, he remained asleep. In a recent visit, Maester Luwin had informed Hilena that the fall had crippled the boy, and he would never walk again.

Now on the day that the king, his host, and many a Winterfell resident were leaving; Hilena thought of Bran. _He was supposed to go south, wasn't he? He wanted to be a Kingsguard. Now that's impossible_.

The Winterfell courtyard was all noise and confusion; shouts and the whinnies of horses filling the air. Hilena had been nonstop saddling, harnessing, and leading horses about under the stern authority of her father. A light snow was falling, causing many wishing to be gone sooner rather than later. The girl brushed off some snow on the saddle.

"You don't look happy." Hilena turned away from the saddle to see the familiar figure of Jon Snow close by, his direwolf at his side. The boy was in full riding gear, dusted with snow, and wearing a pensive smile on his face.

Without a reply, the girl abruptly brought her friend into a tight hug. After a long while, she squeezed him before they let go of the embrace. Ghost paced up to Hilena and plopped down by her foot, then began pawing at her leg and whining. The commoner smiled wistfully, leaning down to pet the wolf's pure white head.

"How can I be happy when everyone I care about is leaving?" Hilena responded with a smirk, half-joking and half-serious. _I'm... I'm going to miss everyone. I'd never admit that to Jon. We've never been ones for that talk._

"I'm not happy myself," Jon said, "I said bye to Bran, and well Lady Stark was... Lady Stark."

"What did she say this time?" Hilena crossed her arms across her chest.

The bastard had recounted many of Lady Stark's insulting remarks directed at him. _She's hateful._ The lady's anger towards Jon was understandable. The boy _was_ evidence of Lord Stark's infidelity. _And what did Eddard Stark do? Bring him into their family. My mother never got as much. Jon is lucky to have that... but he still doesn't deserve Lady Stark's derision._

"Nothing out of the ordinary," the Snow sighed with a bow of his head, "Cold."

"She doesn't like me either," Hilena revealed, scrunching her nose, "Every time I go check on Bran, she asks me to leave. Probably just because I'm lowborn. I mean, I understand she's paranoid for her son, wants to be alone, but I'm... I'm concerned about him too."

Jon nodded in agreement. "Well, I'm here for a saddle, then I'm leaving." _Oh._

"All right," Hilena replied curtly, turning back to the saddle she was preparing. _This will do._ She picked it up and turned to hand it to her friend. "Oh, did you speak with Arya? Give her the sword?" she asked as Jon took the saddle.

The Snow grinned and answered, "She loved it, even gave it a name. Needle."

"A great name for a sword." Hilena smiled back. The two stood in silence, not knowing what to say. _He better come back someday. He better._ "Don't forget to write when you reach the Wall," was all the girl could say.

"If anything happens here, write too," Jon returned, then after a pause said, "Goodbye, Hilena." The bastard slung the saddle on his shoulder, and with one last smile, left with his direwolf padding along beside him.

A sudden emptiness filled Hilena's chest, an overwhelming pit that she had not experienced for a long time. She watched as Jon strode towards his horse, watched Robb Stark swing in from nowhere next to his half-brother. The two spoke, hugged, and parted ways. Tears pricked her eyes, and she brought a bare hand to wipe the droplets away. She could not bring herself to watch Jon leave, to exit the castle and ride off to some frozen wasteland. _I'll see him again. I will._

With a deep breath, Hilena moved from where she stood to find her father. Hullen was not far, the stout man giving a few last commands as he prepared his horse. Harwin was by him too, in his full guard attire and Vagabond at his side. The empty feeling in Hilena's chest remained as she walked, brushing snow off of herself to give her mind a distraction.

"Ah, Hilena!" Hullen shouted when he noticed the girl approaching, "We've been waiting for you." Her father gestured to Harwin, who wore a calm smile despite being coated in snow.

"You'll be going soon?" she inquired flatly.

"Aye, we're bringing up the rear of the train," Harwin said, "It won't be long till we go."

As the girl reached the pair, her father strolled over and brought her into a pleasant embrace. _Oh?_ Hilena wrinkled her nose at the hug, hesitantly accepting Hullen's physical affection. He was never a touchy man, so his rare show of tenderness was surprising. Her father stepped back, then brought his doughy hands to cup her face.

"I'll miss you while down south," Hullen began, staring down at his daughter, "I wish you could come and see the world outside Winterfell. But one of us should stay at the stables, do our family's job. Then again, you can always come with us."

Hilena's eyes widened in shock. _Go south?_ She had not considered it at all; the thought had not even crossed her mind once. 

"I—I hadn't thought about that," the girl responded. _Well...,_ she thought, _I could. I'd get away for once. It'd be exciting, new. I could see everything I've read about... the Red Keep, Moat Cailin, the Sept of Baelor._ Even if there were sound reasons to leave, Hilena hesitated.

"I can't," she stated. Hullen's brow creased and his tender expression faltered. The girl continued, "You're right, I need to stay and do our family's job. Even if I don't serve as master of horse... I should be here." Her lips pressed into a firm line. _Right? Yes, that's reasonable. But wasn't I just moping that everyone is leaving?_

Yet, even though it hurt that Hilena would be alone. Even if she would be away from her brother, from the other smallfolk in the Winter Town, from all the people she cared for. _I must stay. I have a duty to everyone here. Yes, I must stay._

"Well," Hullen finally spoke, then cleared his throat, "Look after the horses, the other stablehands, and your stepmother. And stay out of trouble, will you?" 

"I'll take care of everyone, and I'll be just fine," the girl replied, "I'll be all right, Father." He smiled at Hilena's reply and gave her a pat on the cheek.

"That's my girl. I love you." Hullen stared at her for another moment, something resembling sorrow in his eyes. _How long has it been since he said he loved me? Since anyone has?_ Her father turned away with a sigh and mounted his steed. _Ugh, why do I even care? It doesn't matter._

Before Hilena could do anything else, Harwin strode up to his sister and enveloped her in a deep hug. The girl let out an _oof_ as Harwin lifted her off her feet. Finally, he put her down, and she stumbled while trying to stand upright again.

"I'll miss you too," she said, smirking.

"Me too, terribly." Harwin smiled widely, but there were tears in his eyes. Hilena herself did not hold back on her tears anymore, letting them flow freely down her cheeks. _He'll be fine,_ she told herself, _So will Father, so will Jon, so will all the rest. There's no use to crying._

"Have fun surviving the rat's nest that is our capital," the girl quipped with a slight smile, the taste of salt on her lips. "Don't let those rats get to you." That made her brother laugh, a deep hearty laugh, a laugh full of love. Hilena held onto it in her mind as she watched her family and the rest of the royal host leaving; until she stood alone in the courtyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now things are actually gonna get interesting after this haha


	8. ROBB II

Robb Stark had not expectedthe true pressures and frustrations of lordship. Trying to fulfill all his duties felt like being pulled in a thousand directions at once. He found himself restless at night, tired in the day, stressed at every second. _I hope I can handle being Lord of Winterfell when it's just me;_ the boy thought as he paced through the halls of the Great Keep.

The Stark made his way up a staircase that led to his brother Bran's bedchamber. Robb frequently visited his brother and mother, the latter had not left her young son's side since his fall over a month ago. Robb had tried to check on his mother multiple times a day, trying to get her outside of Bran's bedchamber. He asked her to take a walk in the Godswood with him, to go eat together in the Great Hall, to do anything except stay inside.

Lady Catelyn always had a rebuttal. She was making something, waiting for Maester Luwin, or had taken a walk about the room. _None of it is good enough._ She had not even said goodbye to his father or sisters when they left for King's Landing.

There was so much Robb wanted to tell her. _I need more help._ _I can't do all of this alone. Being a lord, taking care of everything and everyone. I want to be strong for everyone, like a good lord, like Father._ But he always held his tongue. He continued to suggest ideas he knew would get rejected. Robb let the cycle repeat, day after day. However, his mother's attentiveness towards Bran was understandable.

Along with thoughts of the duties of lordship, his little brother constantly occupied Robb's mind. Even though Robb knew the boy was fine now, he still worried there was to be a horrible twist of fate. Every night, the Stark prayed to the Old Gods, and even the new, for Bran. _Let Bran live. Let him live._ Robb hoped those prayers meant something, that they helped. The Stark reached the floor of Bran's bedchamber, silencing his thoughts. He did not enter the chamber, as voices came from inside.

"Talk to Poole about it." It was undoubtedly his mother, Catelyn's voice was taut as a string.

"Poole went south with Lord Stark, my lady." _Maester Luwin,_ Robb identified. "We need a new steward, and there are several other appointments that require our immediate attention—"

"I don't care about appointments!" Lady Stark snapped back, her exclamation like the crack of a whip. At his mother's strained reply, Robb entered the room. It was markedly hotter inside the bedchamber than anywhere else in the castle, even though most of the keep benefitted from the warmth of underground hot springs.

"I'll make the appointments," he said, looking at the old maester, "We'll talk about it first thing in the morning."

"Very good, my lord," Luwin responded, "My lady." The elderly man turned and departed the chamber. Robb glanced at his mother as he strode across the room. Her auburn hair was awry, and she sat hunched over, busy making a trinket or something of the like.

When the Stark boy came to the windows, he opened them, letting the biting night air and sound of howling direwolves enter the stuffy chamber. _They're singing._ Robb listened closely to the crying wolves, their distinct voices. _That's Shaggydog, there's Grey Wind._ It was a harrowing and lonely sound, full of melancholy and anguish. Robb's grip tightened around the window shutter and he glimpsed over his shoulder at his mother.

"When was the last time you left his room?" he asked pointedly.

"I have to take care of him," she stated, gesturing towards Bran, laying still in his bed. The younger boy had a deathly pallor, his brown hair stuck to his forehead and longer than before his fall.

"He's not going to die, Mother," the Stark boy assured, "Maester Luwin says the most dangerous time has passed."

"What if he's wrong?" Catelyn retorted piercingly, but shook as she spoke, "Bran needs me."

" _Rickon_ needs you," Robb countered and turned away from the window to face his mother, who wore a nonplussed expression, "He's _six._ He doesn't know what's happening. He follows me around all day, clutching my leg, crying—"

"Close the windows! I can't stand it! Please make them _stop!_ " the Stark's mother cried out. Robb swung back around to shut the windows, but froze on the spot when he looked out.

Across the yard, there were flames. His stomach dropped at the sight of the fire.Orange and red flickered on a tower as the sound of neighing horses, ringing bells, and barking dogs began.

"Fire," he declared to his mother, "You stay here. I'll come back." The Stark sprinted out of the room without a second glance.

Taking two to three steps at a time, Robb made it to the bottom of the tower. _A fire. How?_ He found an exit from the Great Keep and he ran towards the source of the flames. Guards, servants, and more crowded around the burning turret. _The library tower._

The Stark's eyes searched through the crowd, trying to find someone trusted to speak with _._ His gaze found Maester Luwin eventually, who was standing close to another figure. It did not take long for him to recognize who it was, dark hair plaited into a braid and wearing men's clothes. _Thank the gods,_ he thought, then chastised himself, _Of all the things I could think._

For a second, Robb wished to depart the scene and go back to his mother. _The fire will be subdued._ However, the boy made no move to walk back to the Great Keep. Instead, he made his way through the crowd towards the maester and the girl. He asked the people he passed if they were all right, which they all were. _Thank the gods._

"Maester," the Stark addressed when he got close to the pair, averting his eyes from Hilena.

"Ah, my lord," the elderly man replied and turned to face Robb, "It's good you've arrived so quickly. Don't worry, we have quelled the fire. What started it was... what was it now, Hilena?" Maester Luwin glanced up towards the girl beside him, who stood stoically, her expression indiscernible through the night's darkness and reflections of ruddy light.

"A knocked-over lamp," the commoner stated flatly after a pause, "And I assume _Lord Stark_ needs to hear the rest of my story?" The way she said his title was all venom, the decency she had shown Robb at the welcoming feast gone.

"Yes, I do," the boy answered, making his tone equally flat to hers.

"I was reading in the library. Then, I smelt burning, so I went to find the source and half the damn place was ablaze. The lantern, that I presume started it, was shattered on the ground close to the entrance," she cleared her throat, "That's all, m'lord."

"Did you see anyone?" Robb wanted to move, to stand next to her, to not be staring at the back of her head. _We could at least stand side by side._

"No."

"I was passing by the tower as it began burning," Maester Luwin interjected, "I saw no one leave from the time I got here until now. Well, except Hilena, coughing up a storm and yelling for help."

The Stark hesitated before asking, "Are you all right, Hilena?"

"Yes, I'm—" Suddenly the girl began violently coughing, bringing her elbow to cover her mouth. Maester Luwin reached out a hand to rest on her shoulder. "I'm fine," Hilena managed, "I inhaled a little smoke. It's nothing, maester." The Stark's heart hurt, only a little, at her not acknowledging his concern.

"Perhaps you should stay in the castle tonight, Hilena?" the old maester proposed.

Robb's stomach plummeted. "That's unnecessary—"

Hilena started, "I don't think—"

Robb stopped speaking immediately, Hilena trailed off into a grumble, and Maester Luwin jovially chuckled.

"I would suggest you go back to your stepmother's, but I don't think it safe. You should remain here until we arrest the criminal who started this fire is found." _He has a point._

"Of course," the girl said tersely, "I'll stay in the servant's quarters."

"Your father's quarters are unoccupied," Robb proposed before he could process _what_ he was offering, "Since there is not a master of horse at present."

For the first time since the Stark arrived at the base of the tower, Hilena turned around to look at him. Bright green hazel eyes, tousled dark brown hair, smirking in a way that her mouth parted and the right side quirked up. He did not know how someone could appear like _that_ amid a tragedy. Yes, there was soot on her face and her eyes were red from irritation. But none of those diminished a single thing about her beauty. 

_The Others take me,_ Robb cursed himself, _sometimes I can't see her like any other person, can I?_

"I'd rather stay with the servants," Hilena restated, meeting the boy's eyes unflinchingly, "I know a lot of them, they'll find me a decent place to stay. It's not like I need a lot of room, m'lord."

The Stark's throat constricted, wanting to retaliate and insist upon his offer. However, the last thing he desired was to argue with her. So Robb looked out into the smoke-filled sky and let his jaw hang slack.

Maester Luwin cleared his throat. "I think it'd be best to take Lord Stark's offer."

"It's unnecessary," the girl replied to the old man, "I wouldn't want to be a burden in the Great Keep. I'm no highborn or person of importance. It's fine, maester." _Wait... wait._

"Would you like to be the new master of horse?" he abruptly proposed, bringing his eyes back to Hilena and Maester Luwin. _Well, mistress of horse, I suppose._ "The position is now open." 

The older man gave a nod in agreement. The commoner's eyebrows furrowed, and she scrunched her nose.

"What about Joseth? Or another stablehand?"

"If he or someone else would be better than I'll appoint him," the Stark responded, "But surely you're the most qualified." Hilena went silent at that, giving both Robb and Maester Luwin a suspicious glance.

"Even though I'm a woman?" she challenged, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"I don't see why that matters," the Stark answered sincerely. If Hilena was shocked, elated, appalled, or had any emotions at all caused by Robb's statement, she did not show it. _I hope she doesn't think I'm saying that to impress her. I mean it, she deserves this. It makes sense._

"Fine then, m'lord," the girl declared curtly, her expression still unreadable, "I gratefullyaccept your offer. As _mistress_ of horse. I'll take up residence in my father's quarters." At her acceptance, the Stark had to repress the smile threatening to take over his face.

"I should go, it's past the hour of the bat," the maester announced, then left with a huff and a small smile. The boy watched him go, chain clanking as he walked.

It took Robb a second to remember whom he was standing in front of. He did not want to look at her, even if there was nowhere else _to_ look. They were now the only people in the courtyard. Everyone else had dissipated into the night. _I need to say something. Say something!_ The Stark could not swallow away the lump in his throat that kept him from speaking.

The prolonged, awkward pause ended when Hilena spoke up, "Nice try, Lord Stark." With one lingering glance and a smirk, she departed without glimpsing back.   
  
  


**»»----—-—-—-—--- ---—-—-—-—----««**  
  
  


The Godswood, typically a beautiful and fair place, felt lifeless while Robb Stark stood in it. Pale sunlight streamed through the leaves of trees and shone faintly onto the hot pools dotting the ground. The location was a sensible place for his mother to hold a meeting, but the boy could not shake the disheartening feeling of the woods.

Along with Theon Greyjoy, Ser Rodrick Cassel, and Maester Luwin; the Stark was waiting for Lady Catelyn to arrive at the meeting spot. _By the rock next to the hot pool and the weirwood._ The maester and master-at-arms were in hushed conversation, and Theon was pacing around a black pool.

After Robb's disastrous encounter with Hilena, he had gone back to Bran's bedchamber. When the Stark ran in; his mother lay curled up on the floor, splattered with blood, and a dead man was on the ground with his throat ripped out. He checked on Bran before rushing Lady Catelyn to Maester Luwin's, his mother remaining silent the entire time. Robb had not bothered questioning her, more occupied with her safety and injuries. _An assassin, it must've been,_ the Stark boy reflected, _Who would send an assassin after Bran, my mother? And why?_

Robb faced away from the others, absorbed in his thoughts, staring at the huge heart tree some yards away. Flashes of memories pervaded his mind as he continued to gaze at the tree. Hilena yelling about the injustices dealt by his father, the Stark crying over her rejection and mockery, and their shared anger; their absolute fury and confusion and anguish. The boy bit at his lower lip, trying to find something else to focus on, and let his thoughts wander elsewhere.

A few more minutes passed, then the sound of crunching leaves underfoot filled the silent Godswood. Robb turned around to see Catelyn Stark approaching the group. She gave them all a nod and silently made her way to stand atop the rock by the pool. Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrick shifted to stand at her right, Robb and Theon moving to be at her left.

"What I am about to tell you must remain between us," she began gravely after a moment, regarding the four men, "I don't think Bran fell from that tower. I think he was thrown." _Thrown?_

"The boy was always sure-footed before," Maester Luwin noted quietly.

"Someone tried to kill him twice," Lady Catelyn stated, "Why? Why murder an innocent child? Unless he saw something he wasn't meant to see."

"Saw what, my lady?" Theon questioned. _I have to wonder the same thing._

"I don't know," she admitted, "But I would stake my life the Lannisters are involved. We already have reason to suspect their loyalty to the Crown."

 _The_ _Lannisters? We hosted them, fed them, gave them a bed, and a roof. And they attempt to murder a ten-year-old boy, send an assassin after him? Who do they think they are?_ Robb's hands clenched into fists. _What are they trying to start?_

"Did you notice the dagger the killer used? It's too fine a weapon for such a man," Ser Rodrick pointed out, drawing an elegant, curved blade from its dark scabbard, "The blade is Valyrian steel, the handle dragonbone. Someone gave it to him." _Just more evidence it was the Lannisters. I swear, I swear they'll get their penance._

"They come into our home and try to murder my brother?" Robb scowled, done hiding his thoughts, "If it's war they want—" _They'll get it,_ he thought, putting a hand on his sword hilt.

"If it comes to that, you know I'll stand behind you," the Greyjoy quickly added.

"What, is there going to be a battle in the Godswood?" Maester Luwin interjected, silencing the lordlings, "Huh? Too easily words of war become acts of war. We don't know the truth yet. Lord Stark must be told of this." The Stark boy hesitantly lowered his hand from his sword. _Luwin's right. Don't be a rash fool. Be patient. A lord needs to be patient,_ he lectured himself.

"I don't trust a raven to carry these words," Lady Catelyn said.

"I'll ride to King's Landing," Robb brusquely proposed. _Better me than her. She needs to be here when Bran wakes._

"No," she answered firmly and gave her son a withering glance. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. I will go myself."

"Mother, you can't," he countered, offended by her dismissal. _I can do it._

"I must," she asserted.

"I'll send Hal with a squad of guardsmen to escort you," Ser Rodrick suggested.

"Too large a part attracts unwanted attention," the Stark's mother warned, "I don't want the Lannisters to know I'm coming."

"Let me accompany you at least," the master-at-arms responded, "The kingsroad can be a dangerous place for a woman alone." Maester Luwin nodded in agreement.

"What about Bran?" Robb asked exasperatedly. _What if he wakes, and Mother isn't here?_

"I have prayed to the Seven for more than a month," Lady Catelyn sighed. "Bran's life is in their hands now."

It was not the answer Robb wanted. He did not believe in the Seven, even if he had prayed to them for Bran. The Stark's mother could not leave Bran behind, _should_ not. _I don't seem to have a choice in these matters, even if I'm Lord of Winterfell. Even if I need aid, I can still decide for myself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally updated!! sorry this took eons, school is school :((


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